“If these divers are alive in these spheres, I can’t even guess what the technology is,” Suzanne said. “They look like a couple of giant embryos. Not that I can explain the cavern either. Even this room is a step beyond.”

“Beyond what?” Donald asked.

“The door!” Perry cried.

All eyes shot to the entrance. The massive door was silently closing.

Frantically the three tried to rush back to it to keep it from sealing them in, but the slippery floor hindered their progress. By the time they arrived the door was almost closed. Collectively they leaned against it to force it back open, but with its mass and the slick floor it was a useless endeavor. With a resounding thud the door closed. Then they heard the muffled mechanical sound of the numerous throw bolts sliding into place.

With renewed sense of terror the three moved away from the door.

“Somebody is controlling all this,” Suzanne said gravely. Her worried eyes swept around the seamless room. “And now we are trapped.”

“It’s got to be Russians,” Donald said.

“Enough about the Russians!” Suzanne shouted. “You were in the military too long. You see everything in terms of yesterday’s hostilities. This isn’t about Russians.”

“How do you know?” Donald yelled back. “And don’t you dare denigrate my service to my country.”

“Oh, please!” Suzanne intoned. “I’m not disparaging your naval service. But look around, Donald! This isn’t anything earthly. Look at the light, for goodness’ sake.” Suzanne held out her hand. “There’s no light source, but the illumination is totally even. And there’s no shadow.”

Perry held out his hands and tried to form shadows, but it was impossible. Donald watched but did not try it himself.

“It’s a uniform photon flux that must be penetrating these walls somehow,” Suzanne said. “And if I had to guess I’d say there was a significant ultraviolet component.”

“How can you tell?” Perry said.

“I can’t,” Suzanne admitted. “Not for sure since the human eye doesn’t pick up ultraviolet, but to my mind there’s a definite distortion of the blue of our coveralls and the maroon of your jogging suit.”

Perry looked down at his clothing. To him the color was the same as it always had been.

“The spheres!” Donald yelled.

All eyes shifted to the glass balls. Their opalescence had suddenly and dramatically increased so that they were glowing. A moment later there was a cracking sound, and beginning at both apices the spheres opened like enormous flowers losing their petals. With a gush of fluid the divers spilled out onto the floor.

Donald was the first to overcome his shock. As quickly as he could, he rushed to Richard’s side. Realizing the unconscious diver was trying to breathe, Donald pulled off the man’s helmet and tossed it aside. Richard coughed violently.

Perry rushed to Michael. While he removed Michael’s helmet he could hear Richard’s coughing. Michael, however, was not even breathing. Calling upon his CPR training, Perry knew what to do. First he hauled Michael from the debris of the collapsed sphere, pulling his still attached umbilical with him. After a quick check to make sure the diver’s mouth was clear, he pinched his nostrils closed, took a breath, and gave Michael a lungful of air. Turning his head to the side, Perry took another breath. He was about to repeat the cycle when he noticed that Michael’s eyes were open.

“What the hell are you doing, man!” Michael questioned. He pushed Perry’s face away, which was inches from his own.

“I was doing mouth-to-mouth,” Perry said. He got to his feet. “I didn’t think you were breathing.”

“I’m breathing!” Michael insisted. He made a face of disgust and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Believe me, I’m breathing.”

Richard’s coughing jag came to an abrupt end, and he blinked away the tears it had brought on. His first concern was Michael. When he saw that his buddy was alive and well, he glanced around the room before looking up at the others.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “What happened?”

“That’s the million-dollar question,” Perry answered.

“Where the hell are we?” Richard asked. His eyes took a second quick dash around the room. A perplexed expression clouded his face.

“An equally interesting question,” Perry said.

“Were you looking for us on your dive?” Donald asked Richard.

For a moment Richard merely looked confused. Then Donald’s question helped restore his memory. “Oh, my god!” he cried. “We were on a nearly thousand-foot sat dive! We didn’t decompress!” Richard struggled to his feet. His legs were wobbly, especially on the slippery floor. “Michael, we’ve got to get into the DDC!”

“Take it easy!” Donald said. He grabbed Richard around the upper arm to calm him and keep him from falling. “There’s no DDC here. Besides, you’re all right. Obviously you don’t have the bends.”

Richard’s confusion deepened. He extended his legs and his arms to check his joints. Blinking repeatedly, he looked around the room again, and while doing so noticed the umbilical connecting him to the base of the collapsed sphere. “What the hell is this?” he demanded. He grasped the composite group of hoses and wires and immediately let go. His lips curled in revulsion. “Jeez, it feels soft, like I’m holding someone’s intestines.”

“It has to be some kind of life support,” Suzanne said, speaking up for the first time since the divers had emerged from their shells. “Considering the shape you’re in without decompressing, I guess it had something to do with that as well.”

Richard gingerly touched the device attached to his stomach. It was the size and shape of the head of a toilet plunger. As soon as he touched it, it detached. Catching it in his hand, he looked at its business end. To his horror a series of wormlike appendages protruded from it, their wriggling heads soaked in blood-his blood.

“Ah!” Richard cried. He dropped the device, which quickly retracted into the base of the flattened sphere like a disappearing vacuum cleaner cord. In a panic Richard unzipped the front of his neoprene suit down to his pubis. When he looked at his stomach he cried out again. There were six puncture wounds in a circular pattern around his navel.

After watching Richard, Michael struggled to his feet and hesitantly looked down at his own stomach. He was dismayed to see a similar apparatus. With an expression mirroring Richard’s, he reluctantly touched it with his index finger. To his relief it immediately detached and retracted. Opening his dive suit he found the same peculiar pattern of oozing stab wounds around his umbilicus.

“Holy crap!” Michael voiced. “It looks like we were stabbed a bunch of times with an ice pick.” He shivered. “I can’t stand blood.”

Richard zipped his suit back up and then tried to take a few steps on shaky legs. He reached out and supported himself against the wall. “Man, I feel like I’ve been drugged.”

“I feel like I was run over with a goddamn truck,” Michael said.

“Where’s Mazzola?” Richard asked.

“We wouldn’t have any idea,” Donald said. “What happened during your dive?”

Richard scratched the back of his head. At first all he could remember was getting into the DDC for the compression, but then, with Michael’s participation, they both were able to remember sketchy details of the descent in the bell and entering the water.

“Is that it?” Donald asked. “Nothing after you left the bell?”

Richard nodded. Michael did the same.

“How come you guys all look like you’ve been in a pigpen?” Richard asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he looked more closely at the walls. “What is this, some kind of hospital or something?”

“It’s no hospital,” Donald said. “We can’t tell you much else other than how we got here, but that includes how we got dirty.”

“That’s a start,” Richard said. “Fire away!”