Arthur Clarke - Cradle

The automatic navigation system that guided the boat while Nick was reading consisted of a simple transmitter/receiver combination and a small miniprocessor. Taking advantage of a worldwide set of synchronous satellites, software in the processor established the boat’s location very precisely and then followed a preprogrammed steering algorithm to the desired final site. Along the way, the two-way link with the satellite overhead provided the necessary information to up date the path through the ocean.

When the Florida Queen was within a mile of the dive site, the nav system sounded a tone. Nick then went to the controls and changed to manual guidance. Carol and Troy rose from their chairs. “Remember,” she said, “the primary purpose of our dive is to photograph and salvage whatever it was that we saw down in that fissure on Thursday. If we have enough time afterward, we will go back to the overhang where we found the trident.”

Carol walked over and switched on the monitor attached to the ocean telescope. She was standing only a few feet away from Nick. They had not exchanged any words since right after the boat left Key West. “Good luck,” he said quietly.

She looked at him to see whether he was serious or was being sarcastic. She couldn’t tell. “Thank you,” she said evenly.

Troy joined Carol at the monitor. She pulled the photographs out of the envelope so they could be used to define the exact spot to anchor. For a couple of minutes she issued instructions to Nick, based on what she was seeing from the telescope, commanding small corrections to the boat’s position. At last the ocean floor underneath them looked almost exactly as it had on Thursday when they had seen the whales. With one major difference.

“Now where’s that hole in the reef?” Troy said innocently. “I don’t seem to be able to find it on the monitor.”

Carol’s heart was speeding as she glanced back and forth from the telescope screen to the photographs. Where is that fissure? she thought, It can’t have disappeared. The boat drifted away from the dive site and Nick steered it back. This time Troy dropped the anchor overboard. But Carol still could not see any sign of the fissure. She could not understand it.

“Nick,” she said finally, “could you give us a hand? We were down there together and we both saw the hole. Are Troy and I just confused in some way?”

Nick came over from the steering wheel under the canopy and stared into the monitor. He too was puzzled. But he thought he saw other things on the bottom of the ocean that also looked a little different. “I don’t see the hole either,” he said, “but maybe it’s just the lighting. We were here in the afternoon last time and now it’s ten in the morning.”

Troy turned to Carol. “Maybe Nick ought to dive with you. He was there before, has seen the fissure, and knows how to find the overhang. Everything I know is from the pictures.”

“No,” said Carol quickly. “I want to dive with you. Nick’s probably right. We just can’t see the fissure because of the different lighting.” She picked up her underwater camera and walked around the canopy toward the back of the boat. “Let’s get going,” she said. “We’ll do just fine.”

Troy gave Nick a silent shrug, as if to say “I tried,” and followed her a few moments later.

“BUT Richard,” Ramirez said, “we could get into big trouble.”

“I don’t see how,” Lieutenant Todd replied. “Or why anybody ever has to know. The Navy built the system, after all, primarily for its own ships. We just allow everyone else to use it. All we have to do is interrogate the master register and get the Doppler and ranging time history for their particular identification code. Then we can figure out where they are. It’s easy. We do it all the time for our own vessels.”

“But we signed a maritime convention restricting our access to the private registers except in life-or-death or national security cases,” Ramirez continued. “I can’t just tap into the satellite files because you and I suspect a certain boat of being on an illegal mission. We need more authority.”

“Look, Roberto,” Todd argued vehemently, “who do you think is going to give us permission? We don’t have the photographs. We only have your word for it. No. We must act on our own. If we’re wrong, then nobody ever has to know about it. If we’re right, we’ll nail that bastard, we’ll both be heroes, and nobody will give us a hard time about what we’ve done.”

Ramirez was silent for a few seconds. “Don’t you at least think we should inform Commander Winters? He is, after all, the officer in charge of this Panther investigation.”

“Absolutely not,” said Lieutenant Todd quickly. “You heard him at the meeting yesterday. He thinks we’re out of line already. He’d like nothing better than to shit all over us. He’s jealous.” Todd saw that Ramirez was still undecided. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, “we’ll call him after we find out where the vessel is.”

Lieutenant Ramirez shook his head. “That won’t make any difference. We still will have exceeded our authority.”

“Shit,” said Todd in exasperation. “Tell me what has to be done and I’ll do it. Without you. I’ll take all the risk.” He stopped and looked directly at Ramirez. “I can’t fucking understand it. I guess you Mexicans really are gutless. You’re the one who actually saw the missile in the photograph, but…”

Ramirez’s eyes narrowed. His voice became hard. “That’s enough, Todd. We’ll get the data. But if this turns out to be a disaster, I will personally break your neck with my own hands.”

“I knew you’d see it my way,” Lieutenant Todd replied, smiling as he followed Ramirez to a command console.

Commander Winters put the extra six-pack of Coke on the top of the ice and then closed the cooler. “Anything else,” he shouted out the door at his wife and son, “before I haul this thing out to the car?”

“No, sir,” was the reply from the driveway. The commander picked up the cooler and carried it through the screen door. “Whew,” he said, as he loaded it in the open trunk of the car, “you have enough food and drink in here for a dozen people.”

“I wish you were coming, sir,” said Hap. “Most of the rest of the fathers will be there.”

“I know. I know,” answered Winters. “But your mother’s going. And I need to do some private rehearsing for tonight.” He gave his son a brief hug. “Besides, Hap, we’ve talked about this before. Lately I haven’t felt comfortable at organized church activities. I believe that religion is between God and the individual.”

“You haven’t always felt that way,” Betty interjected from the other side of the car. “In fact, you used to love church picnics. You’d play softball and swim and we would laugh all evening.” There was just a trace of bitterness in her voice. “Come on, Hap.” she said after a momentary pause “We don’t want to be late. Thank your father for helping us pack.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Hap climbed into the car and Winters closed the door behind him. They waved to each other as the Pontiac backed out of the driveway into the street. As they drove away, Winters mused to himself, I must spend more time with him. He needs me now. If I don’t it will soon be too late.

He turned around and walked back into the house. At the refrigerator he stopped and opened the door. He poured himself a glass of orange juice. While he was drinking it, he looked idly around the kitchen. Already Betty had cleaned up the breakfast dishes and put them in the dishwasher. The counters were scrubbed. The morning paper was neatly folded on the breakfast table. The kitchen was tidy, orderly. Like his wife. She abhorred messes of all kinds. Winters remembered one morning, back when Hap was still in diapers and they were living in Norfolk Virginia. The little boy had been exuberantly pounding the kitchen table and suddenly his arms had flailed out, knocking Betty’s cup of coffee and the creamer onto the floor. They both broke and made quite a mess all over the kitchen. Betty had stopped her meal abruptly. By the time she had returned to her cold scrambled eggs, there was not the slightest indication anywhere, not on the floors, the lower cupboard, or even in the wastebasket (she packed all the broken pieces neatly in the basket liner and then removed the entire bag to the outside cans), that there had been an accident.