“Time to go,” he said, and scampered up the ladder, spun a locking wheel on the hatch, and pushed the heavy door upward. Sam followed him and they emerged into a long horizontal cylinder with what looked like airplane seats facing each other. Rigged above were racks of flotation devices, Pelican cases and oxygen bottles. It was the ship’s self-propelled hyperbaric lifeboat.

While a modern dive support vessel’s crew can man ordinary lifeboats or be airlifted off the deck by a rescue helicopter, divers under pressure inside the hyperbaric chamber don’t have any choice but to remain at “depth.” The Depth Charge’s hyperbaric lifeboat was sealed one deck above the pressure chamber by a vertical trunk, and could be pressurized for an emergency escape. It was capable of supporting up to eight divers for up to two weeks, outfitted with its own emergency water and rations and separate, unpressurized cockpit which would ordinarily be manned by someone from the ship’s non-diving crew.

Tusker slammed shut the hatch and spun the locking wheel tight, then began frantically searching the controls inside.

“How do we get off the ship?” Sam cried out.

“I’m not sure, but there must be some kind of explosive davit releases.” Tusker said as he combed the ceiling and walls. “Found it!”

A large red knob, straight out of a cartoon, was situated on the forward bulkhead. A plaque next to it read, RELEASE. Tusker ran to it. “Sit down and strap in. This is going to be rough.”

Sam threw herself into one of the bolstered chairs and strapped a safety harness on. Tusker braced himself and hit the red button with his fist. There was a loud, muffled explosion above their heads and then a moment of silence. They dropped like an elevator with a broken cable. Then the lifeboat slammed into the ocean.

Tusker was thrown up against the ceiling and then fell hard across two chairs. He felt a rib, maybe two, crack, and howled in pain. The boat pitched wildly in the swells. It was shaped like a barrel and behaved like one in the open ocean. Tusker hoped for a brief second that they would drift far enough away from the Depth Charge before the bomb exploded.

As if in answer, a massive explosion blanketed the lifeboat in heat and light. The concussion was deafening and Tusker could feel the boat go airborne. Then he was tossed, first against the ceiling, then the floor, then the ceiling, then the floor again. Finally, mercifully, all went dark.

Blast Radius

Bay of Bengal, ten nautical miles east of Batticaloa. Two hours later.