EXOSKELETON II: Tympanum (10 page)

2

Sunday, 10 May (5:58 a.m. EST – Washington)

The sun warmed the right side of Daniel’s face as he sipped coffee from his glass mug. His unusually early 6:00 a.m. arrival warranted something stronger than his usual cup of green tea. He’d been awake since 4 a.m.

Horace hadn’t given him much to go on. However, the old man’s words had kept him riled through the past two nights.
Existential implications.

Something was sounding in the icy deep of the Weddell Sea, a little over 150 miles off the coast of western Antarctica. It had been two centuries since Captain Cook heard the same signal in approximately the same location. The noise must have been dormant for all that time; otherwise it would have been discovered by military ships, or by the multitude of scientists who studied that part of the world.
So why had it come back to life?

Daniel concluded the previous evening that Operation Tabarin had been instigated by the voyage of the German ship,
Schwabenland
. And it seemed that that vessel had spurred events that extended many years into the future, maybe even to present day.

As if cued by his thoughts, there was a knock at the door. He opened it, and Sandy stood in the doorway with a large envelope. He signed the receipt, thanked her, and closed the door.

The size of the package disappointed him.

He sat on the couch and tore it open, removed the contents – about two hundred pages of individually bound documents – and set them on the coffee table in front of the couch. He sorted them by country of origin, and located the one that he sought: a report by Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service, or SIS, now known as MI-6. It was the logical place to start, Tabarin being a British mission.

He finished reading the document in just under two hours and looked over his notes. The
Schwabenland
was an exploratory vessel. It had set out on its Antarctic expedition at the end of 1938, just before the outbreak of World War II. Herman Goering himself had authorized the mission, the official objective of which had to do with Germany’s concerns about the whaling industry. It made sense since whaling was important for the supply of lubricants and food products. However, the Germans were more likely concerned at the time with another whale byproduct – glycerin for
nitroglycerine
to be used in explosives.

It was also suggested that, anticipating the invasion of Russia, Goering needed to test aircraft performance in extremely cold weather. The
Schwabenland
had been rigged with a catapult to launch small seaplanes from its deck, which could then be retrieved with an onboard crane.

The SIS report claimed that the primary objective of the
Schwabenland
was to scout for viable areas for U-boat landings, both in the Antarctic region of Dronning Maud Land and in the isolated Brazilian Islands of Ilha Trinidade, 1,000 kilometers east of Vitoria, Brazil. A British reconnaissance vessel had documented an awkward, open-sea meeting between a German U-boat and the
Schwabenland
in the Weddell Sea, about 200 kilometers off the coast of Antarctica. The U-Boat was not identified.

Daniel got a chill and rubbed the back of his neck. A German U-boat in the Weddell Sea brought up many questions.
Had the noise been there in 1938? Had the U-boat detected it?
The meeting place could have just been a coincidence, but he doubted it.

He stood and looked through the window over the tops of the trees to the eastern horizon. That a device of any sort could have been positioned in one of the least accessible locations on the planet during the late 1700’s was intriguing. But a machine of any kind operating for over two hundred years – and in
saltwater
– was downright fascinating. A hoax of this magnitude – even in current times – seemed impossible. Daniel was a skeptic by nature, but he knew this couldn’t be a trick.

His desk phone rang. It was Director Thackett. They had more information, and were to meet at 4:00 p.m. in Room 713. He looked at the clock on his computer: 12:48 p.m. He’d forgotten to eat lunch.

3

Sunday, 10 May (1:52 p.m. CST – Baton Rouge)

Will took a right on the Jefferson Highway off-ramp and found himself in dense, stop-and-go traffic. He recalled that this part of town had been a horse ranch just a decade earlier. Now it was packed with stores, restaurants, and fancy houses.

He turned onto Corporate Boulevard and weaved his way through a labyrinth of high-end apartment complexes until his GPS guided him to the address he’d programmed that morning. He parked in a sparsely populated lot, and climbed several flights of outdoor stairs to a third floor apartment. He unlocked and opened the door, and the odors of new construction and carpet tingled in his nostrils.

He walked in and flipped a light switch. Bright lights, recessed in the high ceiling, illuminated a fully furnished living room, dining room, and kitchen. It was an open floor plan; the only thing separating the kitchen from the living room was an island with a large, double sink. Four barstools were lined beneath its black granite countertop.

He padded across the wood laminate floor and around the island. He pressed a switch that energized the lights hanging over the counter, and then opened the large stainless steel refrigerator: empty, clean, and new.

Exploring the rest of the flat, he found two bedrooms: one with a carpeted floor and a queen-sized bed. The other had wood floors and was set up as a study, furnished with a large desk, couch, upholstered chairs, and a coffee table.

He shook his head and sighed. The apartment was excellent.

He looked out a window into the bright afternoon and decided it was a good time to explore Baton Rouge and to pick up a few things to stock the fridge. He’d make a nice dinner and then find the swimming pool. He needed to decompress after the long drive.

4

Sunday, 10 May (3:58 p.m. EST – Washington)

Daniel was on time, but still the last to arrive in Room 713. He sat on the leather couch next to Sylvia, with everyone in the same seating arrangement as the first time they’d met. He wondered if all Omnis lives were ruled by routine.

Thackett glanced to Horace on his right, and then opened a laptop, clicked on the keyboard, and turned it toward Daniel and Sylvia. It was an underwater video, already playing.

“This is from the USS
North Dakota
,” Thackett explained. “Footage of the object.”

Daniel couldn’t take his eyes off the computer. It was mesmerizing. The video seemed to be in black and white, but it was hard to tell in the dark water background and the white object. It resembled a spherical water tower.

“It doesn’t move – just seems to make noise,” Daniel said. “Is it a beacon of some sort?”

Horace shrugged.

Thackett snapped the computer closed and put it in a briefcase on the floor next to his chair. “Other than knowing what it looks like,” he explained, “this video doesn’t add important information. We’ve requested a sample of the material, the analysis of which should provide us with some useful information – the manufacturing company, country of origin,
something
– that should aid in your research.”

Thackett nodded to Horace.

“Sylvia, Daniel,” Horace said and then seemed to carefully formulate his next words in his head.

Daniel’s intuition told him bad news was coming.

“My gut tells me your respective projects are closely related to the object, and to each other,” Horace continued. “We know it’s against every safeguard we have, but we’ve decided that you two should work together.”

“I thought we already were,” Sylvia said, vocalizing Daniel’s thoughts.

Horace nodded and said, “Now we need you to interact.” He opened his arms and looked about the room. “This will be your new office. There’s enough space for you both to have your offices moved here, but maintain some privacy.”

Daniel didn’t like it. He was happy working alone. He could tell by Sylvia’s expression that she felt the same.

“You both have reservations,” Horace said, grinning. His eyes conveyed understanding. “But this project is too important for us to miss anything.”

It seemed that Horace was implying danger, but Daniel wasn’t convinced there was an immediate threat – the object had been there for centuries. He remembered the old man uttering the words
existential implications,
but it seemed farfetched. Maybe it was time for Horace to retire.

“You two can figure out the office arrangement,” Thackett said. “There’s enough room so you can each take a corner and have your offices arranged exactly as they are now.”

Sylvia looked to Daniel and shrugged.

Daniel nodded.

“Good,” Horace said. “You should get each other up to speed on your respective projects and update each other regularly. Brainstorm.”

“Your offices will be moved after you leave tonight,” Thackett said. “You’ll report here first thing tomorrow.”

Daniel cringed at the idea of sharing space, but nearly panicked at the thought of changing his routine. How would this affect his research? His concentration was fickle. When focused, he could make connections that most people would never find. If distracted, he might miss something. Thackett was new, but Daniel knew the CIA director understood this about him and the other Omnis. Horace had to know it as well.

They seemed to be panicking.

5

Sunday 10 May (8:17 p.m. EST – Antarctic Circle)

The USS
North Dakota
maneuvered to a position directly above the object. The
Little Dakota
had been fitted with sample collecting tools to extract a material sample for analysis.
LD
was ready and waiting in the load lock.

“Flood the chamber and let’s get this show on the road,” McHenry ordered.

Stuart filled the chamber and launched the min-sub.

In 20 minutes they had the same view of the object that they’d had over 12 hours earlier. Stuart inched the
LD
closer.

“Activating the arm,” Stuart said and pushed a button.

A metallic, multi-fingered appendage came into view and approached the sphere. One of its fingers resembled a drill bit, and three others had thick rubber pads on their tips.

“What are those?” McHenry asked, pointing to the padded fingertips that were now in contact with the surface.

“Suction mounts,” Stuart said as he pushed a button. “An onboard pump will create a vacuum at the tips. The connection should stabilize the sub and allow us to mill into the surface.”

“And the drill bit?”

“A diamond-impregnated end mill.”

An end mill was much like a drill bit, but its tip was nearly flat. It could be used to plunge into metal to create a hole, but could also cut laterally to machine flat surfaces. A diamond mill could cut just about anything.

“Cut in no more than a millimeter,” McHenry said.

Stuart started the motor and the tip spun up to a blur.

“How’s the material collected?” McHenry asked.

Stuart clicked a button, and one of the free fingers on the appendage moved to a position close to the contact point between the tool and the surface. “That’s a suction filter system,” Stuart explained. “It sucks the debris and water in through a sieve which collects the pieces. Material might also be stuck on the cutting tool afterwards.”

The spinning bit made contact, and McHenry strained his eyes to see if material was being removed. The cutting edge of the mill was undoubtedly in contact with the white surface, but didn’t look to be cutting into it.

Stuart seemed to notice the same thing, and backed the tool away from the surface. “Didn’t even make a mark,” he said. “Let’s increase the speed and put a little more pressure on it this time.”

The cutter pressed onto the surface, but again didn’t do any damage.

“Go to the highest speed and largest force you can apply without damaging the tool,” McHenry said. He didn’t like the
North Dakota
sitting in one place for too long.

Stuart changed some parameters and engaged the cutter.

Finley, who manned the sonar system at an adjacent station, pulled off his headphones. “Sir, we’re making noise.”

McHenry nodded. He looked back to Stuart. “Anything?”

Stuart backed the drill from the surface. “Nothing – no change in appearance whatsoever.”

“Are there other options?” McHenry asked.

“There’s a diamond grinding wheel,” Stuart replied. “It should cut through anything. We’ll make a lot of noise.”

McHenry gave him the go-ahead, and then watched as the drill retracted and a dark wheel, about four inches in diameter, took its place. About a quarter-inch of the outer edge glittered with tiny chips of diamond. They faded into a blur as the wheel spun up to full speed.

“Here we go,” Stuart said, and guided the grinder to the white surface.

The wheel made contact, and Finley turned to McHenry and put his hands on his headphones, indicating they were making a lot of noise.

“We’re getting debris in the filter,” Stuart said in an optimistic tone.

“We don’t need much material,” McHenry said, “but let’s make sure we penetrate into the surface about a millimeter.”

Stuart nodded and pressed the wheel in slowly. Finley warned again about the noise, this time motioning with his hands that his head was exploding.

“The filter indicates we have a lot of material, and we’ve moved in about a millimeter,” Stuart said. “Back off?”

McHenry nodded. “Let’s see what we’ve done.”

Stuart retracted the grinding wheel and spun it down to a halt.

Confused, McHenry looked more closely at the monitor. “I thought you said we were catching debris.”

Stuart squinted at the screen. “We did, sir. I don’t understand … there’s not even a scratch.”

“I see the problem,” McHenry said and pointed to the screen. “Look at the wheel.”

The diamond-impregnated outer edge of the cutting wheel seemed to be thinner, now only about an eighth inch of the outer edge glittered – it had worn down.

At that moment, Finley turned with a look concern. “Sir, there’s another vessel in the area – a sub.”

McHenry’s vision faded and he felt dizzy for a second. “Get the
Little Dakota
back home now,” he ordered. “Notify me immediately when the bay is closed. Be prepared to cut the line.”

McHenry’s neck muscles tightened as he made his way to the conn. This was exactly what he’d feared.