Chapter Text
Link Neal had spent years getting here: after college he interned in California for a while, studying what he could while spending most of his time cleaning up after the scientists that were actually getting paid. There were months he barely even saw the sunshine, so often was he in the depths of one lab or another. Once he got a real, paying job, his social life went out the window. No one said being a marine biologist was going to be easy. In fact, most said the opposite.
His specialty was deep sea vertebrates, of which there seemed to be precious few. Other than whales, most vertebrates couldn’t survive the crushing depths of the deep oceans, but he was convinced that there was a whole world down in the depths as of yet undiscovered. His thesis, “Bones Down Below”, posited that with the right genetics and under the right circumstances, larger vertebrate creatures could in fact live at the ocean floor. It was this research that had brought him to The Qalupalik, a large ocean research vessel on its way to the very deepest part of the ocean. Rather, to the research station that was currently floating above it.
Over 1,300 miles south of Japan, the Marianas Trench was the deepest known natural point in the entire world. Around 1,500 miles long and up to almost 43 miles wide, the Trench had been a site of research for over a hundred years. It had fascinated Link as a young man and, at over seven miles, over three times the maximum depth a whale could travel, it was the perfect place to prove his theories. The only problem was Link had a rather ironic fear of the ocean. At least, the deeper parts of it.
“So you’re a, oceanologist?” A gruff voice broke Link from his thoughtful gazing over the ocean to bring him back to reality. Turning from the bow, Link saw third mate John Haroldson. He was barely forty but looked ten years older. His tan face was wrinkled from years at sea and his beard was bushy and unkempt. He looked like he should be singing sea shanties, not manning a research vessel. “But you’re afraid of the ocean. How does that work, exactly?”
“It worked fine in the lab,” Link admitted, going back to leaning against the railing. It was true; he’d been so caught up with the science that he forgot that part of studying sea life was actually going out to sea. He could bare it, but just barely, as he told folks. “Hopefully I’ll get some good specimens to bring back for safer study.” Almost on cue the boat lurched over a particularly large wave, teetering off-kilter as it crested before splashing back down to continue onward. Link held on to the side of the boat as if his life depended on it, but John barely moved from his spot against the wall. He chuckled at Link’s discomfort.
“Hopefully you make it to the research station intact,” he teased, none too kindly. His huge grin certainly didn’t help the turn in Link’s stomach. “At least when you’re heading for Thetis there won’t be any waves for you to worry about.”
“Thetis?” Link echoed back, confused. “I thought the research station-”
“I guess you didn’t read the briefing very closely,” John interrupted, crossing the narrow walkway to the railing, looking out over the ocean before them while the other man tried not to look at the ocean twenty feet below them. “The research station- the Marianas Trench Oasis- is just a base station,” he explained. “A few labs, docking port, bare necessities. You won’t be there long.”
“You seem to know a lot about where I’m going,” Link accused, not wanting to admit that he mostly skimmed over the briefing before accepting this well-paying job.
“They’ve been having us shuttle more than a few scientists back and forth for months now,” John explained. “You aren’t the first and probably won’t be the last.” He paused to scratch beard before continuing. “You are probably the youngest, though.”
“Not sure how to take that,” Link admitted. Another soft chuckle from the third mate. “So, are you going to tell me about Thetis or do I have to guess?”
“You study ocean stuff, right?” A stupid question, in Link’s opinion, but he figured he’s humor the guy if only to keep his own mind off of the ocean around them.
“Yeah.” ‘Obviously. I should have really read that briefing,’ he lamented.
~
The Marianas Trench Oasis, also called MTO for short, was just as John Haroldson said it was: small and fairly basic. The Qalupalik docked only a few hours before sunset and almost immediately the crew of the ship and the research station got to work unloading much needed supplies. Link, not being a member of either crew, knew well enough to stay out of their way and ducked around various burly men lifting heavy boxes and equipment to explore MTO by himself. If there was a welcome wagon he didn’t see it, probably easily dodging them too in his efforts to take a self-guided tour of the floating laboratory.
At first glance, the facility wasn’t much to look at; it was built on a low-riding converted oil platform and still bore the marks of rust and wear. The semi-submersible rig was designed to be mobile, with azimuth thrusters (basically huge propellers) that could move it nearly anywhere in the ocean. The giant mast and drill pipe, along with most of the other drilling equipment, had been removed, replaced by shorter office buildings- the research labs. It was to the largest of these that Link headed directly.
Inside was a much fresher sight than the outside, with actual painted walls and tinted windows. In the center of the rectangular room was an equally rectangular counter, lined with microscopes and specimen containers with a multi-level UV storage shelf sitting in between it all. Along the far all were several aquariums of various sizes stacked floor to ceiling. Link recognized a few of the fish swimming around inside them, but not many. His eyes were quickly drawn to the three or four men and women in white coats that were now staring back at him.
“Looks like a new one,” someone noted, Link didn’t see who. A few subtle chuckles replied to the unknown speaker as a couple uncomfortable looks were exchanged throughout the room.
“He’s all yours,” came another voice. This time Link managed to catch the woman in the far corner saying these words, a very unamused expression on her face. The gentleman to whom she was addressing groaned audibly as he rotated on his pivoting stool to face the newcomer. He was at least twenty years older than the young man who had just entered the room, and three times as buff. His short sleeves showed off hairy, muscular arms, each covered in tattoos that had faded with time. Link got a good look at them as the man held his hand out in greeting.
“What’s your name, son?” the man asked, keeping a firm grip on Link’s hand.
“Charles Neal,” he answered, using his proper name rather than his nickname. He wasn’t sure if the folks here, let alone this gentleman before him, would care much for his childhood moniker.
“Call me Mike,” the man offered, leading Link through the lab to the back door. His name tag read Cpt. Dylan with the letters ‘cpt’ written on in marker. Outside the still of the laboratory was immediately replaced by the now familiar sounds of waves crashing against a man-made vessel, in this case the floating oil rig. The neigh-scentless air of the lab became a mere memory as the thick, salty breeze once again assaulted Link’s nose. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to this. “You just arrive?” Mike was asking.
“Uh, yeah,” Link managed, following Mike along the outside of the building. He wasn’t sure exactly where they were headed, but he got the feeling that he wasn’t the one to be asking questions just now.
“Looking forward to your first decent?” He paused, turning just enough so that he could cock an interested eyebrow back towards Link, barely hiding the smirk that was forming across his face.
“Not really,” Link admitted, trying to put on a brave expression. “But I’m up to it.” He dearly hoped that he wouldn’t be proven a liar about that.
“If you were expecting a warmer welcome, you might want to realize that you’re not the first deep sea biologist to come though here.” Mike motioned to the huge science vessel still docked across the platform. “We’ve had no less than five of you guys shipped to us in the past six months. I’m guessing you weren’t their first choice,” he added, holding back a chuckle.
‘They weren’t exactly mine, either,’ Link thought to himself. Getting hired by the Research Center Of Augmented Oceanography (RCAO) wasn’t exactly his dream job, but it was certainly promised to pay the bills, as they say. To Mike he asked “I’m if not the first, what happened to the others?”
“Officially this project has had a run of bad luck.” Not exactly comforting but Link let him continue. “Accidental drowning, accidental overdose, accidental broken neck….”
“Oh my gosh, how did that happen?”
“Slipped in the shower.” Mike shrugged. “Sad way to go.” Link shuddered at the thought.
“And unofficially?”
“Some of the younger researchers are calling this whole project cursed.”
“Yeah, about that…” While he didn’t want to admit to taking a job he didn’t entirely understand, Link had to ask. “What exactly is the project?” Mike cocked his eyebrow again before answering.
“Apparently a lot of it is classified,” he began, resuming his walk towards The Qalupalik. “I’m getting paid to look after you rookies, for the most part. Not exactly sure what any of you expect to find down there that requires that much man power, funds, or so much secrecy.”
“Man power?” Link echoed, glancing back at the labs behind them.
“You’ll see,” was all Mike offered. He left it at that as they approached the dock workers finishing up their work. As they stood there and watched the last of the boxes being unloaded, Link had another rather random question to ask.
“So, why does your name tag say ‘Captain’ Newman?” He gave a small smirk, expecting a light-hearted story in response.
“I was a captain in the navy for eight years,” he noted with a very humorless tone. Then, looking Link dead in the eye and with a completely serious face, he added, “I’ve seen shit you wouldn’t believe.” He held that stare for a full five seconds before leaving Link, more than a bit befuddled, to cheerfully greet the dock workers finishing up. Link took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
‘Well,’ he sighed to himself. ‘This is going to be more interesting than I thought.’ Leaning against another railing, wondering if that was going to be a habit for him in this job, he saw the last of the equipment being brought on board, this time with the giant crane that was affixed to the drilling platform. It was quite a bit larger than the other boxes and things, and even though he’d never seen anything like it, he recognized it immediately as a submersible. At just about fifteen feet at its longest, the vaguely white contraption looked more like an origami box than a submarine. It had several small propellers located on each convex side and various scientific instruments here and there. Large letters on one side labeled it ‘DSV Felt’.
“You excited?” asked a voice. Link turned to see third officer John coming up from the docks, a bit worse for the wear but with a broad smile on his face. He motioned towards the sub. “Mike says he can have that baby fueled up fast and you’ll be on your way to Thetis by the end of the day.” Link had a hundred questions.
“Felt?” As good a place as any to get started.
“You know, Mark Felt?” The name didn’t ring a bell right away so Mike clarified. “Deep Throat?” That Link knew and he nodded to say just so. Mark Felt, a.k.a. ‘Deep Throat’ was the pseudonym given to the secret informant who provided information to Bob Woodward, about the involvement of U.S. President Richard Nixon's administration in the Watergate scandal in 1972. That didn’t really explain why that name was chosen for a submarine. Mike saw the confusion on Link’s face and explained further. “It’s designed to go deep, the deepest in fact. That puppy-” He pointed at the DSV Felt for emphasis- “is your ride to the bottom of the ocean.”
“Is it a baby or a puppy?” Link joked, trying to hide his fear of such a journey. Mike chuckled heartily but didn’t answer the obvious rhetorical query. Inside all he could think was ‘what the hell did I get myself into?’