- Atlantic Ocean - 1976
The swells are fifty feet and the sky is black. Lightening reaches out from the clouds in multiple directions dissolving into the atmosphere. The aggressive seas can only be seen during those few seconds when a forked bolt stretches across the sky.
Looking unusually tiny and helpless in the middle of the great ocean floats the cargo ship, Gibraltar. Placed into service two years earlier, the “box boat” can carry up to ten thousand metal storage containers, many currently stacked six and seven high across the entire deck. The weight of the containers forces the ship to sit low in the water. She has not previously met conditions of this magnitude and is swaying heavily. The total mass of the cargo helps her remain steady, but the ocean can not be controlled and with one swift stroke, a powerful wave blasts across the bow of the massive ship. It submerges briefly, and then reappears. Three storage containers have been swept away, including the container sitting on the top row in the corner, serial number UGP3141592.
Captain Pappas is a third generation sea captain and a fifth generation alcoholic. He travels with his own cot on every voyage, setting it up on the bridge. He never can make it to his quarters after the rum bottle has been opened. The ocean doesn’t let up as another swell washes across the bow once again. The influence of rocking boat sobers Captain Pappas enough for him to get off the cot and redirect the boat, pointing it into the advancing swells. The rest of the crew is trying to sleep, except for a couple of mechanics monitoring the engines. No one notices the boat is lighter.
The storage container UGP3141592 tumbles into the waiting darkness of the depths. Fish and mammals swim by as air escapes any slight opening in the container, making its way to the surface in multiple streams of bubbles.
- Present Day
It’s a relatively calm day as the research and recovery ship, Jambalaya, sways slowly amidst the thick water of the northern Atlantic. Painted along the side of the 128 foot ship is Triton Deep Sea Recovery and Salvage. The crew is running about the ship preparing for the next container to arrive. A large crane sits on the stern of the ship. A heavy metal cable is rolling through the wench as it’s pulled up, out of the water.
Following the cable under the water reveals the depth of the area. The cable finally comes to an end where, hooked on, is a storage container, like an old boot on the end of a fishing line. Due to the activity, few fish are found, only a couple man made vessels fly by keeping a watchful eye on the containers progress. With its classic submarine shape the DO3000 is the largest of company’s submarine fleet and is used mainly for towing. The crew calls it Goliath.
Further down, about another thousand feet sits the Deep Ocean Recovery Station, Neptune One. In the center of the underwater rig is a large diameter cable, which shoots straight up toward the surface and the Jambalaya. It is the umbilical cord and it feeds Neptune One electrical energy and operational data.
Another one of the four mini-subs in service at Neptune One does a slow fly by around the rig. Known by the crew as the Seahorse, it’s smaller, with the capacity for only one relatively light human. Fast and light are its main characteristics, as well as its accuracy with its two sophisticated arms and claws.
The pilot of this particular Seahorse is a tough looking female, wearing leather gloves and bandana wrapped around her head, she speaks into a headset, “Neptune, package is well on its way, I’m coming in for some fuel.” It is quite a tight fit inside the mini-sub, but Roxanne “Rocky” Lombardi fits perfectly and there’s no place else she’d rather be.
Behind the main console of Neptune One sits the crew scientist, Dr. Melissa Sands. She, also, speaks into a headset, “Roger that Rocky, use dock three.”
“Roger, dock three,” Rocky sets her approach.
Melissa leans over and hits a couple of switches. The long tour under the sea coupled with a makeup free face and a pair of glasses makes her look rather worn, but she does clean up nicely. As always she’s drinking coffee out of her lucky mug, “Neptune to Jambalaya …”
“Jambalaya here,” The crackling voice belongs to Captain Charles Miller, commander of the Jambalaya. He’s straight from the Louisiana swamps, “we just received the package. Good work, you going after the next one?”
“Why the hell not?” Melissa’s on her fifth cup of coffee.
“Well, we’re done for the night.”
“Light weights.”
“We’ll give you a wake up call at eight hundred hours.”
“Sounds good have a good night, Neptune out,” she hits the switch turning off the communication. “Wake up call? We don’t need no stinkin’ wake up call.”
The huge window in front of her, which displays the vast ocean, fills with Goliath, the large sub, “Melissa,” at the controls is Captain Paul Murphy, an all-around seaman. He hits a few switches and checks out the small monitor sitting next to him, “can you run a quick scan of the area? I want to take a look at the next box.” The consistent chime from the sonar bounces throughout the sub. His ears open and his eyes focused out the large main window, he swings the ship around and pushes forward, gliding into the gray darkness.
Melissa punches commands into the keyboard of the nearest computer, “Scanning…”
The monitor shows a topographical map with many layers of different colors. In the center, at the base of an undersea mountain, is a bright red dot.
“Everything looks clear. Package is two hundred yards north-by-northwest.”
Captain Murphy slowly pulls away from Neptune One, “Thank you, Doctor Sands.”
“Anytime, Commander Murphy,” Melissa returns with a smile.
The Goliath skirts the ocean floor. From Melissa’s view point the spotlights attached to the Goliath moves through the intense darkness, making it appear as though it’s floating alone in the vastness of space. Inside, Murphy listens to the rhythmic sound of the sonar, which has gained momentum as he moves closer to the target. The spotlight paints the seafloor, exposing an untouched layer of rippled sand.
The intact ocean floor is interrupted by the red doors of a cargo box, “Hello.” Murphy moves the two-ton submarine around the box. The spotlight reflecting off the box appears bright against the surrounding black. A large number four enters the spotlight.
“Neptune One,” Murphy calls to Melissa.
“Go ahead, Goliath.”
He lets the Goliath continue gliding down the box, reading each new number and letter, “Okay, here we go. Four. Uncle. Sam. Two. Six. Beta. Six. Delta. Six. Nine. One.”
“Roger that,” Melissa reviews, “4US26B6D691. That’s our box. How’s she look?”
Murphy pulls the submarine back, expanding the exposed area until the entire container is in the light, “Good. Looks completely intact.” He maneuvers to inspect all sides if the box, “No visible cracks.”
“How’s she laying?” Melissa asks.
“Flat, on her side.”
“Nice, it’s been a while since we’ve had an easy one.”
Murphy backs away from the window and pushes right on the joystick, beginning his turn back to the Neptune when a glimmer of light bounces back at him. “Hold on,” He turns back the controls and aims for the twinkle of reflection in the distance, “Neptune One, I’ve got something due south. I’m going to take a quick look.”
“Roger, Goliath.”
Once again the sub is moving across the ocean floor. Murphy leans in close to the window again. The sparkle that caught his attention has grown to an object, or a piece of an object. He flips a few switches above his head igniting two more spotlights, which exposes the rest of the object. A half buried container.
“Neptune One, I’ve got an unknown container, half buried.”
“Roger, Goliath, is it retrievable?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Then, without warning, the Goliath shuts down. The brightly lit submarine disappears into the darkness.
“Neptune One? Melissa?” Murphy clicks a couple of different switches on and off. “Neptune, this is Goliath, over.”
Nothing. A small green glow coats the interior after Murphy shakes a florescent glow-stick to life. Then, a thud, as the Goliath sets down on the ocean floor.
Murphy can see the white glow of Neptune One off in the distance, “Terrific.”