Akin made his way toward they galley for coffee, his mind awash in memories of his grandfather. He tried to recall how long the old man languished in hospital before finally giving in to the pneumonia in his lungs. The man went out of the world so quietly and yet the world he grew up in, participated in, seemed so alien and severe. For all of Akin’s talents and efforts in securing the boarders of the United States’ coastline, somehow it felt very different from the seamanship his grandfather experienced.
Wells nearly gave Akin a heart attack when he spoke, “The preliminary chemical reads are back from the ship lab, sir. The egg heads think you ought to stop by for them to explain things to you. He tried to tell me but all I heard was, ‘you should have taken better notes in chemistry‘, sorry.”
Akin nodded and composed himself again, saying, “I was going to get some coffee for the Chinese Spy,” Wells smirked, amused his nick-name for Ke was taking root. “Suppose you could do that while I get filled in at the lab?”
“Sure sir,” Wells nodded and went to the galley, pouring the dense blackness into three mugs and gingerly tip-toed his way toward the spare bunk room turned research chamber. At the door he could hear Ke reading to Perry. He knocked once with the toe of his boot.
“That better be five ounces of delicious Mexican black tar.” Perry called out from within.
Wells had to turn the handle down with a knee and walked in, sloshing a bit of coffee on the floor.
“Party foul,” said Ke idly, her eyes looking back to the books. “Ah, I wondered about that.” She thought aloud.
August 27, 1944 Kaptain Sajer U-5918 Brunhilde
Burton came to my quarters looking quite ernest. He carried with him several bound folders and a bit of sweat on his brow, I’d never seen the man look nervous but I could understand why after he told me what concerned him. The ongoing tests from the Kettle weren’t just exceeding the expectations, they were rewriting all the previous understandings we had. I am a man of ocean air and salt, Burtons grasp of science is as foriegn to me as the Sahara, but his descriptions were quite simple. And quite concerning.
The original tasking of Operation: Wormwood seemed very straightforward. We would take a new, highly specialized, ship right into New York harbor and sink some vessels in port. The new engines would allow us to wander without being found and the recovery divers would enable us to potentially operate indefinitely. Apparently this was only a small part of the plan. Burton was also learning that he too was only a small part of the plan. Neither of us could guess how far this plan reached but from the SS and Gestapo stamps on his mission and research notes we believe it is safe to assume the Führer himself may not be fully informed.
Burton explained that the oxygen they are using from the Kettle is like an exhaust fume, as long as the machine works, it creates Kettle Steam. That part of the machine is working as expected. How the Kettle Steam is changing the bodies of the diving teams? That is not expected. They are getting stronger, but their skin looks hard and leathery for a few days after a few hours in the suits. Their eyes remain deeply blood shot for nearly five full days before starting to turn back. The lads who go through the process seem to never be hungry, and these are the same boys who could empty out a French bakery in Paris. The way this thing is changing their bodies is alarming, but it’s all making the mission happen so much more smoothly. A few of the other lads volunteered to cross train to be divers, vying to replace the two fallen compatriots. I fear we may be staring into Pandoras Box, but I must admit my curiosity grows as well. Kessler seems the most resistant to it, while also strangely encouraging of others. Hochberg remains steadfast supportive of anything I’ve got to say. I suppose if a third of my crew was as dedicated a sailor as Hochberg we could sail into the Pacific and give the Japanese the help they seem to need.
“Might explain the old diving suits,” said Wells over his coffee cup.
“Must have altered the aging process,” theorized Perry.
Ke looked at the bulkhead in front of her and considered the science for a moment. Oxygen is essential to life, certainly for humans. The chemical reactions required oxygen in a substancial way, so an oxygen rich liquid would surely keep a wearer alive. There were plenty of experimental liquids for deep sea divers to breathe so that they could go to further depths, but the issues from using them were prohibitively dangerous. More fascinating, what was the Kettle doing to make this sort of liquid as a by product?
Akin spoke from behind them, everyone turned quickly, stunned that he had snuck in. “The chemical reports are in, what the fuck have they done?”