Ghost Writer(18)

“I thought this thing would tell you, maybe even let you know you were leaving a crewman behind, not to mention me.”

There might have been a hint of hysteria to my voice.

“We lost the feed from Petty Officer Parker right after the explosion. His tactical camera must be damaged, so, I ask again, what the hell happened to my man.”

It irked me that I was the one trapped and he was badgering me. For Matt Parker's sake, I tried to play nice.

“Something hit Parker in the back of the neck. No one else seemed to see him, so I went to him. I tried to stop the bleeding. I called for help. No one heard.” I gulped air in an effort to push down my need to sob or retch, or both. “He just died in my arms.”

“Damn.”

“So, I ask again, what happened?”

Tinsdale skipped the question and went back to badgering me. “You should have followed the orders of the Marines assigned to you. It was foolish to stay.”

“I was trying to save your bloody petty officer, remember? Why were we left? Don't Marines learn how to count?”

There was a pause. Maybe a five count.

“Panic won't help.”

“I haven't panicked yet. I might if someone doesn't tell me what the hell is going on and what you are doing about it.”

There was longer pause. I half expected hold music to start playing. While waiting, I climbed onto a counter to get out of the water. After a bit, I tried shouting “hello” into the receiver. It seemed dead and I was wondering what to do about that when a different, more familiar voice spoke.





Chapter Fourteen ~ Captain Campbell



“Ms. Kirby, this is Captain Campbell. The Scranton has routed you to me.”

I could just imagine Tinsdale saying something like, “She's a Canadian. You deal with her.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

“I know this is very distressing. I'm sure, if we cooperate, we can sort this out.”

The impenetrable calm of his voice was less irritating in these circumstances. Better than being badgered. I still wasn’t getting answers, and I was ready to channel Dora at any moment now.

“Please, Captain, tell me what is going on.”

There was a short pause, as long as a deep breath. “Although we aided in the evacuation, we have not yet been granted access to the station. Nor have the Americans been forthcoming. We think there might have been charges rigged to prevent the base from being captured. I understand that there were some injuries amongst the Americans examining Command and Control and there was an explosion in engineering. Your fellow researchers were recovered safely with only scratches and bruises. They are here, aboard the Nottawasaga.”

“I noticed that Dora…Dr. Leland had to be helped out.”

There was a pause, long enough for a consultation. “She twisted her ankle. Otherwise she is safe and sound. I am being honest with you, Ms. Kirby.”

I felt chastised, but shook it off. I had every right to be concerned. “I just wanted to be sure.”

I was feeling sorry for myself, and I was dreadfully afraid, but I was polite and trying to at least sound calm. “Is anyone trying to get me out?”

No hesitation this time. “I am.”

Okay, I thought. He's calm and assured. That helps even if I'm not sure whether to believe him.

“Can you tell me what's happening?”

There was another one of those consultation length pauses. “The Nottawasaga will be overseeing a combined rescue operation. We will have you out as soon as possible”

“Is the station sinking?”

Silence.

“Am I sinking?”

“Not for now. The tower is about two metres under the surface and holding. The situation is currently stable.”

I nodded in the dark. “Okay. Tell me what's happening. Please.”

Another pause. When he spoke, Captain Campbell's voice was cool and professional. “Captain Franchot of the émil Gagnan has directed his mini-subs to assess the damage. Captain Tinsdale's crew is analyzing the station logs and schematics. I will send divers to extricate you when we have a better idea what is going on. We have to go carefully, so we don't make the situation worse. Can you tell me what's happening where you are? As you know, we lost tactical feed. You are now our eyes and ears.”

I told him where the breach was, relative to the entry hatch. He asked me to estimate the measurements of both the breach and its location. Warning him that spatial acuity was not my forte, I guessed.

“How much water is on the deck?”

“Where I am, no more than a few centimetres. The deck isn't even and there's more water at the low end.”

“Is it still flowing?”

I told him about the flour patch. That made him pause. I might have impressed him. I impressed me. I then told him about trying to open the hatch and being thrown off my feet.

“By the way, what was that about?”

“There were two hull breaches. You slowed the inflow in the galley. The affected compartment in engineering continued to fill. Eventually, it upset the balance of the station. The salvage balloons compensated for a while, then one gave way and the station tipped.”

I nodded in the twilight of the emergency lights.