Chapter 4 - Eight Days Underwater
Eight days earlier, the Atlantic had been calmer than it had any right to be in late November.
Derek remembered that because calm water made people careless.
Rough seas demanded respect.
Calm seas whispered that nothing bad was coming.
The Northstar support vessel Mariner Seven floated six miles off the coast at Blackwater Reach beneath a sky the color of steel.
Derek stood on deck reviewing the dive plan.
Six divers.
Three pairs.
Maximum working depth: two hundred twelve feet.
Planned bottom time: tightly controlled.
Decompression schedule: mandatory.
The exercise was supposed to certify two senior divers for supervisory status while familiarizing the team with a section of subsea infrastructure scheduled for inspection the following month.
Everything had paperwork.
Everything had redundancy.
Everything looked safe on paper.
That should have worried him.
“Vance.”
Eli Mercer approached wearing half his gear.
Thirty-one years old.
Good diver.
Too much confidence when joking.
Not enough confidence when quiet.
“You planning to stare at that slate until it confesses?”
Derek handed him the dive plan.
“Read the emergency ascent section again.”
“I read it.”
“Read it again.”
Eli groaned.
“You become emotionally fulfilled making adults repeat instructions?”
“Yes.”
“Explains why you’re single.”
“Read.”
Eli smiled and read.
Nearby, project director Grant Halpern stood speaking with the vessel captain.
Halpern was not a diver.
That had never stopped him from explaining diving.
He wore a Northstar jacket that looked too clean for offshore work and carried a tablet like it was a badge of rank.
“We’re losing light,” Halpern called.
Derek did not turn.
“We dive according to schedule.”
“We’re twenty minutes behind.”
“Then we finish twenty minutes later.”
“We have weather moving overnight.”
“That affects tomorrow.”
Halpern walked over.
“It affects vessel time.”
Derek looked at him.
“The ocean doesn’t care about your invoice.”
Eli pretended to cough.
Halpern’s jaw tightened.
“This route has already been surveyed.”
“Good.”
“So there should be no complications.”
“That sentence has killed people.”
For a moment they stared at each other.
Then Halpern walked away.
Eli murmured, “You know he signs performance reviews.”
Derek checked his regulator.
“So does gravity.”
Forty minutes later Derek and Eli descended into darkness.
At two hundred feet, daylight became memory.
Their helmet lights carved narrow tunnels through blue-black water.
Communication crackled through the system.
Derek’s breathing sounded enormous inside his own gear.
The seabed emerged gradually.
Sand.
Rock.
Marine growth.
Then the training platform.
Northstar had placed a metal practice assembly near what records described as an abandoned conduit corridor.
Their task was straightforward.
Inspect mounting hardware.
Document simulated damage.
Practice supervisor communication protocols.
Eli moved ten feet to Derek’s right.
“Visibility six meters.”
“Copy.”
They reached the platform.
The first ten minutes were uneventful.
Then Eli’s light swung sharply.
“Derek.”
“I see it.”
Something lay partially buried beneath sediment beyond the platform.
A cable.
Large.
Armored.
Not abandoned.
Derek knew the difference immediately.
The protective housing was newer than anything shown on their survey.
“Topside, Diver One.”
Static.
Then:
“Go.”
“We have an unlisted conduit at the southern edge of the training platform.”
Silence.
“Repeat?”
“Unlisted conduit. Appears active infrastructure. Confirm route.”
Longer silence.
Derek looked at Eli.
Eli looked back.
Finally topside responded.
“Proceed with exercise. Maintain clearance.”
Derek stopped moving.
“Negative. Identify conduit.”
Another pause.
Then Grant Halpern’s voice replaced the tender’s.
“Derek, mapping discrepancy. Engineering is aware.”
“Since when?”
“Proceed.”
“Since when, Grant?”
“You are cleared.”
That was the first moment Derek knew something was wrong above them.
He signaled Eli.
Abort.
They began moving away from the platform.
Then the seabed shifted.
Not naturally.
A section of the training frame had been placed partly over loose sediment.
One support leg sank.
The structure tilted.
A guide cable snapped tight.
Eli turned too late.
His umbilical line caught beneath a bracket.
“Derek!”
Derek reached him.
Eli pulled.
Wrong move.
The cable tightened around part of his rig.
“Stop moving.”
“I’m snagged.”
“I know.”
Derek braced himself against the platform.
He worked at the line.
Then the training structure shifted again.
Metal slammed against metal.
Something struck Derek’s shoulder.
A sharp edge tore through the fabric of his suit near the upper arm.
Pain flashed.
He ignored it.
“Derek, I’m losing—”
“Look at me.”
Eli’s breathing accelerated.
“Look at me.”
Eli did.
“You have gas.”
“Yes.”
“You can breathe.”
“Yes.”
“I’m getting you out.”
Derek reached behind the bracket.
The housing beside him vibrated faintly.
Active.
No question.
A live subsea conduit sat exactly where Northstar’s maps claimed there was nothing.
He freed one section of Eli’s line.
Then another.
The platform shifted again.
Sediment exploded into darkness.
Visibility vanished.
Eli’s breathing became rapid.
“Derek!”
“Stay still.”
“I can’t see.”
“I can.”
It was a lie.
Derek worked by touch.
His left arm burned.
He pulled harder.
Finally the line came free.
“Move.”
They cleared the structure.
Derek checked their remaining time.
They had already exceeded the exercise window.
Normal decompression was still possible.
Then Eli’s breathing changed.
“Derek.”
“What?”
No answer.
“Eli.”
“My chest.”
Derek turned.
Eli’s movements had become clumsy.
“What’s happening?”
“Can’t—”
Derek made the decision that would haunt the next eight days.
They could follow the entire planned decompression schedule and risk Eli deteriorating underwater.
Or they could accelerate the ascent and get him to surface medical support.
Derek called topside.
“Medical emergency. Diver Two symptomatic. Initiating emergency ascent protocol.”
Halpern responded immediately.
“Negative.”
Derek froze.
“Say again?”
“Maintain schedule.”
“My diver is symptomatic.”
“Maintain decompression.”
Derek looked at Eli.
His friend’s eyes were wide behind the mask.
“No.”
“Derek—”
“Prepare chamber.”
“Diver One, maintain schedule.”
Derek disconnected from argument.
He moved Eli upward.
They performed what stops they safely could.
Not enough.
Never enough.
Eli worsened.
By the time they reached the surface, the deck crew dragged him aboard.
Oxygen went on immediately.
Derek removed his own helmet.
Someone asked if he was injured.
“No.”
His shoulder was burning.
He ignored it.
Eli improved within minutes.
That was the trap.
Color returned to his face.
His breathing slowed.
He sat up.
Halpern arrived.
“You both okay?”
Derek stared at him.
“You told us to stay down.”
“We were following decompression safety.”
“He was in distress.”
“And now he isn’t.”
Derek stepped toward him.
“What was that cable?”
Halpern lowered his voice.
“Not here.”
“What was it?”
“Mapping problem.”
“You knew about it.”
“I knew engineering was reviewing conflicting survey data.”
“Before today?”
Halpern said nothing.
Derek understood.
“You put six divers down there anyway.”
“Watch yourself.”
“You knew.”
A medic interrupted.
“Derek, your arm.”
Only then did Derek look.
The suit had been punctured.
A narrow tear near his upper arm.
“Surface cut,” he said.
“We should clean it.”
“Fine.”
The wound seemed trivial.
Half an inch.
Minimal bleeding.
Nothing compared with what might have happened.
By evening, Northstar had made a decision.
The incident would be recorded as a minor training equipment failure.
No decompression injury.
No infrastructure conflict.
No serious medical event.
Eli felt better.
Derek’s arm hurt.
Everyone wanted to go home.
Grant Halpern gathered the dive team inside the vessel cabin.
“Until engineering completes review, nobody discusses the unverified conduit.”
Derek laughed once.
“You’re kidding.”
“This involves critical infrastructure.”
“It involves our lives.”
“It also involves security obligations.”
Eli shifted beside Derek.
Halpern continued.
“Medical concerns go through company occupational health.”
Derek stared at him.
“You’re telling them not to see outside doctors?”
“I’m telling them to follow procedure.”
“What procedure?”
“The one you agreed to when you took the contract.”
Derek understood what Halpern was invoking.
Confidentiality.
Security clearance.
Contractual penalties.
Professional blacklisting.
The language companies used when they wanted fear to sound administrative.
Derek looked at the five younger divers around him.
People with mortgages.
Children.
Careers dependent on certifications Northstar could influence.
He made a terrible choice for what he believed was a good reason.
He stayed quiet.
Three days later the discoloration appeared.
Occupational health said bruising.
Five days later, the pain spread.
Derek called Eli.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Little tired.”
“Any tingling?”
“No.”
“Skin changes?”
“No.”
Derek almost went to a hospital that night.
Then Halpern called.
“I heard you’re asking medical questions.”
Derek went cold.
“Who told you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“My arm is changing color.”
“You had trauma.”
“I had an emergency ascent.”
“Which you initiated against instruction.”
There it was.
Blame.
“If this becomes a regulatory investigation,” Halpern continued, “your decision-making will be reviewed.”
“My decision saved Eli.”
“Maybe.”
Derek’s grip tightened around the phone.
“What does that mean?”
“It means don’t create a crisis where there isn’t one.”
By Thursday, Derek could no longer lift his arm normally.
By midnight, he drove himself to Harbor Crest.
And now, lying in an emergency department bed while Nadia listened, he finally told the entire story.
When he finished, nobody spoke immediately.
Keane was first.
“You made the emergency ascent because Mercer developed chest symptoms?”
“Yes.”
“And occupational health knew?”
“Yes.”
“They did not send either of you for hyperbaric evaluation?”
“No.”
Keane’s anger was quieter than shouting.
“That decision may have endangered both of you.”
Derek looked away.
“I know.”
Nadia asked, “Why didn’t you tell us the truth when you came in?”
Derek’s answer hurt more than she expected.
“Because if I was wrong, I destroy six careers.”
“And if you were right?”
He looked at his arm.
“I guess we’re finding that out.”
A call came through the desk.
Lorraine answered.
Her face changed.
She covered the receiver.
“Ambulance has Eli Mercer.”
Keane stepped forward.
“How bad?”
“Leg weakness. Severe back pain. Numbness. They’re twelve minutes out.”
Derek tried to stand.
Nadia put a hand on his shoulder.
“No.”
“I need to see him.”
“You need to stay in bed.”
“This happened because I brought him up too fast.”
Keane turned sharply.
“No.”
Derek stared.
“You made an emergency decision because a diver deteriorated at depth. We can debate the profile later. What we do not do is rewrite the entire event so that Northstar’s choices disappear and yours becomes the only one that matters.”
Derek’s expression cracked.
Only slightly.
But Nadia saw guilt underneath.
Eight days of it.
Keane continued.
“Mercer gets treated. You get treated. After that, people far above my pay grade can decide what Northstar knew.”
Derek looked at Nadia.
“What if Eli can’t walk?”
She had no answer.
Then the doors at the far end of the emergency department opened.
Paramedics rushed in around a stretcher.
Eli Mercer lay beneath a blanket, pale and terrified.
His eyes found Derek immediately.
“Derek!”
Derek sat forward.
Eli grabbed the rail.
“They lied to us.”
Everyone froze.
Eli’s voice broke.
“The cable wasn’t a mapping mistake.”
Derek stared at him.
“How do you know?”
Eli struggled for breath.
“Because I took a picture.”
May you like
And on Eli Mercer’s damaged phone was an image that could prove somebody at Northstar had known exactly what waited for them beneath Blackwater Reach.
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