Joseph Carrabis, Author Blog

Yes, this is brand new. I skipped Chapter 15 because it’s pretty much what was The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery) – Chapter 12 (New).

Enjoy.

 
Master Chief Sonar Technician Boyd sat at the Henderson James‘ sonar station. Her right hand held a headphone snug against her ear, her left hand adjusted analog verniers on her board.

Chief of the Boat Jensen stood behind her on her right and leaned slightly forward to watch and, she hoped, get an idea of what Boyd did. “I thought all that stuff was digital now.”

Boyd kept her eyes on meters and gauges. Her fingers turned the vernier so minutely her movements wouldn’t have disturbed spider silk.

“Seaman Oyster’s been released from sickbay.”

Boyd continued her focus.

“Captain Hudon’s got a Neil Robinson with heavy duty restraints and a comm pipe where nobody will find you all picked out in case you cause trouble again.”

“It helps if you don’t talk right now. And don’t make fun of people’s names.”

Jensen folded her harms over her chest and leaned back against the station’s doorjamb. “You gave him that name.”

“I’m a bad person.”

Boyd’s eyes moved from one diagnostics screen to the next. Recumbrance? Check. Integration? Check. ABFAC Cones? Check. Towed Array? Check? Transform Analysis? Check. AI Separation? Check.

Boyd shook her head. One hand kept her headphones tight to her right ear, her other hand continued their ministrations over dials and switches.

Run another series check?

Why?

She turned to a second set of screens along a wall projecting from the sonar displays.

Jensen looked as well. “Anything on the ES-10?”

“Nothing. Unless somebody’s got something way beyond what we have, this is pure biologic.” Boyd ran diagnostics. “Or the most sophisticated ‘droppers DARPA can come up with suck.”

“What biologic out of Boston has a signature like that?”

Boyd turned back to her sonar panel. Two screens showed Sherlock’s progress analyzing the signals, one coming out of Boston harbor, the other out beyond the continental shelf.

It kept coming up blank and asking for help.

Boyd leaned back. Her eyes continued their dance over her screens. She flipped a switch and the signals came over her station speakers. “Ever hear of Tim Storms? He’s a singer and voice actor with the lowest voice on record. He can sing too low for humans to hear but elephants and whales hear him fine.”

“You think he’s singing in a shower somewhere in the Back Bay?”

“Ha.”

Jensen came forward. Slightly bent at the waist, she supported herself by placing her hands on the control panel’s edge while she scanned Boyd’s screens. “Sounds like they’re having a conversation, doesn’t it?”

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Previous entries in The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery)

Pretty sure this is brand new.

Maybe.

 
Sean, always careful when he dove, prepped as before at the USS Boston memorial.

Nothing and no one.

He put on gear not usually carried on a free dive: a small tank with a thirty minute air supply, a headlamp and a backup snapped to his belt, night vision goggles, an Argonaut knife strapped to his calf, and a multi purpose camera on a chest harness.

One last equipment and harness check and he slid into the water.

At the cave mouth he checked his watch and rechecked his gear and harness.

All good.

Okay, Sean. Let’s go exploring.

He surfaced so slowly and clean it seemed the ocean hesitated letting him go, as if fearful of losing one of its own. No wake, no ripple, less sound than that caused by the tunnel’s natural pulsing with the waves and tides.

He waited, only the crown of his head down to his eyes above the waterline and at the edge where the tunnel opened to the cave floor. He rotated slowly to go unnoticed by anything living be in the cave.

Nothing save the bioluminescence of the algae lining the walls. Did this cave fill at high tide? Water seeks its own level, but to fill the air in the cave must escape.

He focused and rotated again, this time seeking areas where algae didn’t cling to the walls.

Ah! There and there. And two more over there.

His hands shifted from maintaining depth to slightly lifting until his ears surfaced.

Again, nothing. Only the sound natural to a underground, underwater cave.

The water rippled softly.

He put his hands on the edge of the floor.

Vibration.

The passive sonar thing from before?

No, not the same.

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Previous entries in The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery)