Zach Hughes - Pressure Man

“Only a practicing pessimist,” Dom said. “Give it to me.”

“The hatch locks on the redundant bulkheads are inoperative,” Jensen said. “And the mains would have to take up any strain alone.”

“The damned things were working when we checked them,” Neil said.

“They’re not working now,” Jensen said.

The redundant bulkheads were safety features. Between the hold and the compartments forward and aft were two sets of bulkheads. The inner wall had no hatches or locks. The outer, or redundant, bulkhead was hatched, allowing access to the air space between bulkheads.

“All readings are normal,” Doris said. “That clever little bit had to be built in.”

“And something’s happened since we checked,” Neil said.

“A timed acid charge next to the wiring,” J.J. said. “That would do it.”

“That means we had Firsters working on the ship,” Dom said. “It would take an instrumentation tech and an electrician working together to install acid vials and an inspector to overlook them.”

“And how many more?” J.J. asked, his voice seething with frustrated anger.

“Art, give Paul a hand and get cracking on those hatch controls,” Dom said. “Get them closed and lock them.”

All of the metal pieces which formed the internal supports had begun to look alike, giving Dom the fear that he had forgotten to move on and was pulling himself, swimming, using his hands for help, over the same girders time after time. He was getting very tired. When you’re tired mistakes come more easily. He didn’t want to overlook some small package, and he didn’t want to have to slow down.

“Forward hatches closed and locked,” Paul Jensen said. “Moving to the stern.”

“Roger on that,” Dom said.

Suddenly he was wishing for Larry. Larry could put himself inside the head of that sonofabitch back there on the moon and it was eighty to twenty that Larry could send searchers to within a hundred feet of the charge. Larry would think it over for a few minutes while telling bad jokes and then he’d say, “Hell, it’s simple.”

So try to put yourself in Larry’s head, he told himself. Make it simple. What are the factors? A hint that the bomb was in the hold. Sabotaged hatch-closing controls on the safety bulkheads.

“Hell,” he said aloud, “it is simple.”

“What’s so simple?” Neil asked.

“They had to plan this thing well in advance,” Dom said, his voice showing his excitement. Even as he talked he was moving straight down the center of the hold, swimming for the stern bulkhead. “They wanted an explosion and they wanted it to do maximum damage. So they fixed it so that the safety hatches wouldn’t close, so that the explosion, if it didn’t rupture the outer hull, would do maximum internal damage. They want water in the forward quarters and in the engineroom.”

“Sounds logical,” J. J. said.

“Neil, you and Ellen stop where you are and swim like hell to the forward bulkhead.”

“Forty and counting, Flash,” J.J. said. “Are you ready to bet it all on a hunch?”

“That is affirmative,” Dom said. “Well find it on the stern bulkhead or near it. Just in case they got two charges, I want Neil and Ellen to cover the forward bulkhead. My bet is that they’re aiming at the engine compartment.”

He pictured it. The main bulkhead ruptured, water pouring into the engine compartment through the open safety hatches. It wouldn’t even have to be a huge charge. A small shaped charge would punch a hole in the bulkhead.

Neil said, “We’re moving. I think you’re right, Dom, A three-foot hole punched in the bulkhead would do it.”

“Probably near a seam,” Doris said.

Dom was gasping. The beam of his light sliced the water ahead. The minutes seemed to race by. When he could see the distinctive contours of the stern bulkhead he slowed and allowed his heart to catch up, gliding forward on inertial momentum. The bulkhead was studded with diamond-shaped reinforcement for strength. He came onto it at the approximate center. It extended up and down and out on all sides, a large area of potential hiding places, and each reinforcement diamond offered multiple planes for planting a charge.

“We’re under way up here,” Neil said. “Ellen, go to the outer hull and start clockwise. Next to the outer hull would be a good place.”

“Thirty-one and counting,” Doris said.

“Paul and Art,” Dom said, “when we find this mother we’ll bring it out the nearest lock, so stand by to get there fast. Paul on lock controls, Art on the nearest outer lock. Everybody in life-support gear now. When we come out, I’ll want a section closed off so that Art can have the outer lock already open. Got that?”

“Roger,” Art said.

“Abandon-ship stations in fifteen minutes,” J. J. said.

“Thirty and counting,” Doris reported.

Never had minutes seemed to pass so quickly. Dom was moving rapidly over the bulkhead, checking each depression between reinforcing diamonds, running his hands over the reinforcements themselves. Neil and Ellen reported no find.

The charge on the stern bulkhead was mounted a few inches from the outer hull on a flat surface between two reinforcement diamonds. It filled the space neatly. It was held in place by four gleaming nuts on studs into the bulkhead, itself.

“Neil,” Dom said, “concentrate on the second row of depressions at six o’clock. I’ve got mine.”

“Roger,” Neil said.

“Twenty and counting,” Doris said.

“Nothing here,” Neil said.

“Take five more minutes, spend it down low,” Dom said. “Paul, I need a half-inch power spanner and a two-foot repair limpet at the port stern lock. Start the lock cycling now. I’m betting that this thing is rigged to detonate if it’s removed underwater.” He waited near the inner lock door. “They went to too much trouble not to booby-trap it.”

“The lock is flooded and opening,” Paul said.

“We’re negative up here,” Neil reported.

“Roger,” Dom said. “You and Ellen get out.” Dom grabbed the repair limpet and the power wrench as the lock door opened.

“Sixteen and counting, Dom,” Doris said.

“No change in orders,” Dom said, as he swam back toward the charge. “Take abandon-ship stations.”

“Change of orders,” J.J. said. “I’m staying aboard. Well get it off in time, Flash.”

“This is a matter of safety,” Dom said. “You’re going off, admiral.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” J.J. said bitterly.

Dom was inflating the repair limpet, pumping water from around the charge. When it was enclosed inside the limpet he inserted his hands and carefully used the in-place cloths to dry the charge and bulkhead around it. He inserted the spanner, activated it, spun off one of the nuts.

“Fifteen and counting,” Doris said. “Capsules ready for launching.”

Two nuts were off. A third was coming.

“Number one launched,” Doris said.

“Pilot’s capsule launched,” Neil said. “Well expect to be back aboard in a few minutes, Dom.”

“That’s a hopeful roger,” Dom said, spinning off the last stud and removing the spanner.

“Standing by,” Paul Jensen said. “It’s just you and me, Dom.”

He allowed the capsules forty-five seconds to clear the ship, at least by a few hundred feet. Then he pulled on the charge. It came and his heart thumped as he waited for it to blow. It stuck. He used the spanner as a pry and it came off the studs and was in his hand inside the repair limpet. He turned it. It was rigged to explode upon contact with water. He closed a watertight bag over the charge and removed it from the limpet, letting the limpet fall away.

“Stand by to operate the lock, Paul,” he said. He swam into the lock and the door started closing behind him. The explosive device was sophisticated. It was equipped for detonation by radio signal, and it was standard to have the circuits rigged to explode if there was tampering.