Deep Storm Read Online Free PDF Page B

True, he was well versed in the disorders of those who lived in undersea environments, but there were other doctors who could make the same claim.
    He stretched again, then shrugged. He’d learn the reason soon enough. And besides, it didn’t really matter; being here was simply his good fortune. He wondered what strange and wonderful artifacts had been unearthed, what ancient secrets might already have been rediscovered.
    There was a loud clank, and the hatchway in the far wall opened. “Please step through the airlock and into the passageway beyond,” the voice said.
    Crane did as instructed and found himself in a dimly lit cylindrical passage about twenty feet long with another closed hatch at the end. He stopped, waiting. The airlock behind him closed again with another sharp clank. There was a rush of escaping air, so violent that Crane’s ears popped painfully. Then at last the forward hatch opened and yellow light flooded in. A figure stood in the hatchway, haloed in light, one arm outstretched in welcome. As Crane stepped out of the passageway and into the chamber beyond, he recognized the smiling face of Howard Asher.
    â€œDr. Crane!” Asher said, taking his hand and shaking it warmly. “Welcome to the Facility.”
    â€œThanks,” Crane replied. “Though I feel I’ve been here awhile already.”
    Asher chuckled. “We kept meaning to install DVD players in the compression chambers to help pass the acclimation time. But now that the station is fully staffed there didn’t seem any point. And we weren’t anticipating any visitors. How did you find the reading material?”
    â€œIncredible. Have you really discovered—”
    But Asher stayed the question by raising his finger to his nose, winking, and giving Crane a conspiratorial smile. “The reality is more incredible than you can imagine. But first things first. Let me show you to your quarters. It’s been a long trip, and I’m sure you’d like to freshen up.”
    Crane let Asher take one of his bags. “I’d like to know more about the acclimatization process.”
    â€œOf course, of course. This way, Peter. Did I already ask if I could call you Peter?” And he led the way with another smile.
    Crane looked around curiously. They were in a square, low-ceilinged vestibule with gray-tinted windows lining the opposing walls. Behind one of the windows sat two technicians at a bank of controls, staring back at him. One of them saluted.
    At the end of the vestibule, a white hallway led off into the top level of the Facility. Asher was already heading down it, bag slung over one shoulder, and Crane hastened behind him. The hall was narrow—of course—but not nearly as cramped as he’d expected. The lighting was unexpected, too: warm and incandescent, quite unlike the harsh fluorescence of submarines. The atmosphere was yet another surprise: warm and pleasingly humid. There was a faint, almost undetectable smell in the air Crane didn’t recognize: coppery, metallic. He wondered if it was related to the atmosphere technology the Facility employed.
    As they walked, they passed several closed doors, white like the hallway. Some bore individual’s names, others abbreviated titles like ELEC PROC or SUBSTAT II . A worker—a young man wearing a jumpsuit—opened one of the doors as they passed by. He nodded to Asher, looked curiously at Crane, then headed back toward the vestibule. Peering inside, Crane got a look at a room full of rack-mounted blade servers and a small jungle of networking hardware.
    Crane realized the walls and doors were not painted white, after all. Instead, they were constructed of some unusual composite that seemed to take on the color of their environment: in this case, the light of the hallway. He could see his own ghostly reflection in the door, along with a strange, platinum-colored underhue.
    â€œWhat is this material?” he