Travel Bubble

December 1967 and Prime Minister of Australia Harold Holt was contemplating his next step. Nearing the end of his second year in office, he could have been thinking about the current war his country was participating in, or possible pressures from a strengthening opposition or worse, from within his own party. There had been rumours of an affair which may have weighed on his mind, but none of that was likely bothering him this day. This day was a perfect day, parliament had finished for the year, Christmas was around the corner, and he was at his favourite place in the world, Portsea, on the Mornington peninsular.

An avid spear fisher, he stood with the cool waters of Bass Strait, lapping at his feet, and ventured forth to enter that other world which called to him constantly, the ocean.

***

“So Dave, what’s our mission, and what’s with the contraption. That’s not our usual ‘transpo’.”

“Phil, I’m glad you’re finally here! It’s a mini submarine. The tech guys printed it off over the weekend, it is just a façade which surrounds our travel bubble.”

“Oh, I see? Hey, what do you mean finally. I’m right on time. What’s the rush, it’s time travel, I think we’ve successfully busted the 9 to 5 workday myth. We can make up lost time any time.”

“Well that’s not a very professional attitude. Anyway, sorry for the over-exuberance, but we’re going to solve a mystery that has had the nation wondering for decades. What really happened to Harold Holt.”

“Who?”

“Former Prime Minister Harold Holt!”

“Well, it has to be more than just decades, we haven’t had a Prime Minister for decades. Have we been authorised to do this jump, or is this for your own amusement Dave?”

“Phil! How could you not have heard of Harold Holt. His name is embedded in the Australian vernacular. You’ve heard the term, ‘doing the Harold Holt’, haven’t you mate?”

“Yeah, but that’s just rhyming slang for doing the bolt, like when it’s your shout down the pub.”

“Now now, that was one time, and I was ill. Nearly coughed up half a lung that night. Now back to business.” Moving over to a large screen with a map of the southern Victorian coast, Dave Henshaw explained the mission to his long-time co-pilot Phil Dawes. “We know the place was Cheviot Beach, and the time was December 17, 1967, at around 12.20pm. If we put the coordinates to just off shore at that time, maybe we can watch and see how things unravelled.”

“That’s a little morbid mate. What if he’s taken by a shark! I don’t want to see that!... So, what do we know about his disappearance, other than when?”

“Well Phil, after doing a little ‘Doogling’, Winkapedia says that he probably drowned. He was in his fifties, there was familial heart issues, but there was also talk of him being a Chinese spy and being picked up by a sub and taken back to China.”

“Is that why we’re masquerading as a submarine. Nothing weird about that.”

“No it’s the perfect disguise, no one will see us from shore. The Perspex nose-cone will give us the perfect 180-degree view and we will document it all on camera for our official report. Another mystery solved.”

“Dave, mate, is this important to our job, I mean did he do anything worth remembering? Also, this seems a little closer than we usually get, remember the non-interference rules, NO INTERFERENCE.”

“Phil, it’s all good, we hang back and monitor for movement, maybe pop our heads up to scan the shore; I’ve fitted a camera on a stick, no one will know we’re even there.”

“Was he alone?”

“Yeah, nah. He was with a small group of friends, but we’ll be too far out to see. It’s all good Phil. Trust me, I’ve got everything sorted.”

“Is this research for another story Dave? The big boss won’t be happy if you’re using the machine for your own purposes. I’m not covering for you again. I am literally still paying for your last escapade.”

“It’s all above board mate. The boss is big into early Australian politics. That being said, if I glean some good info by accident, I won’t be sad.”

Captain Philip Dawes entered the travel bubble, closely followed by Captain Dave Henshaw. During the 30-minute pre-jump check, final details were fed into the time-jump computer. The core was engaged, and the controlled nuclear jumpstart instigated the motion of the two giant titanium rings that towered over the travel bubble which would open the time portal.

The two men had made many time-jumps over their five year deployment to the top secret site and their assignment was coming to an end.

“Core engaged. Pilots make final checks.” A ghostly voice came over the speaker.

“Go for Dawes.” Phil spoke first.

“Go for Henshaw.” Dave followed shortly after.

“We have go for jump in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, launch.”

The jump experience was relatively painless for those who had done it. Mild anti-anxiety medication was administered pre-flight, and blinders were worn by participants; the experience was considered too much for even the strongest mind.

***

“Gotta love this country.” Harold said to himself as he entered the bracing waters of Bass Strait. As the water deepened he donned his mask and snorkel and fell forward into the welcoming sea. The currents were running quite strong, but nothing Harold hadn’t dealt with before. Floating past rock shelves and seaweed, allowing the flow to take him out a little, he spotted his prise, a beautiful Snapper. “Hello beautiful, what are you doing in here?” Keeping a watchful eye on the fish, Harold surfaced to replace the spent air in his lungs, then dove down toward a large rock outcrop where he thought his dinner was hiding.

The sea bottom dropped away past the rock shelf and as he pursued his catch, he saw something bigger and more interesting just metres away in the briny water. He carefully followed, mindful of the dangers of leaving the protection of the shoals. Just as it seemed close enough for him to identify, it exploded in front of him, as if it had swallowed a grenade. Harold stopped, controlling his rising panic but suddenly frozen trying to comprehend what had happened, then in the same moment, from out of nowhere a submarine appeared before him, expanding as if from nothing, causing a shockwave to surge through the water and forcing the breath from his lungs. It was too much for his heart and with a look of disbelief set forever on his face, he drifted away gripped by the unseen hands of the sea, disappearing forever into the abyss.

***

“Christ! What was that? This was a bad idea, Dave.” Phil was desperately punching information into the Jump computer, trying to shut down some of the alarms that were alerting them to the obvious dangers before them.

Dave was wide eyed with excitement, the jump always got his adrenalin pumping, even with the downers, but this was different. The first time someone ‘jumped’ into water the crew drowned. The bubble looked like a goldfish bowl when it returned, the crewmen floating around like dead fish. Since then the bubble was updated regularly to deal with any terrain. This was not a textbook entry, and Dave wondered if it was the dummy submarine shell that had caused the issue. “What did we hit Phil, a whale? Did we appear inside the poor bastard? All I can see is blood.”

“Yeah, it’s bad. I’ll check the video when the screens come back on. I’m rebooting the computer; it’ll take a minute. I wish they hadn’t been stingy on the operating system; Windows 550 is about four versions behind the latest.”

“So Phil, I think I might pop our head out to see what’s happening on shore. We may have disturbed the surface with our grand entrance.”

“Ok, but be discreet, we don’t want to be obvious.”

Rising a little too quickly, the dummy conning tower pierced the surface of the water like a whale breaching, creating a very obvious wave. “Phil, we’ve been spotted. I’m diving again.”

“Yeah, well that’s the least of our worries mate. I’m watching the video of our arrival and I think we killed Harold Holt and maybe a dolphin. We need to get the hell outta here.”

The two men hurriedly returned to their seats and strapped in. Dave punched the return button, and they were gone.

***

A short time after watching their friend Harold enter the water, a small group of people were shocked by what seemed to be a disturbance in the water just offshore. Concerned for their friend, they concentrated their attention to that spot, looking for Harold to surface. To their amazement, something resembling a submarine breached the surface and quickly disappeared. Not submerge but vanish.

As time passed and panic rose among the onlookers, a search was started, authorities called in and questions asked. When the interviews were done it was decided that the sighting of a submarine was unlikely and the water disturbance was probably caused by a large sea creature.

Earlier that day a local woman walking her dog as she did every day at the same time, stopped at the same place she always did and took time to acknowledge the beautiful view that nature graciously provided her. Unaware of the group down on the shoreline, she gazed out to sea, ever hopeful of seeing a whale or a pod of dolphins, and whether it happened or not mattered little to her.

This day though she did see something. First there was a bulge form on the surface, like a bubble about to burst underwater, then as she peered more intently a submarine appeared and disappeared almost instantly. Amazed, but doubting her eyes, she shrugged her shoulders and took her dog home and told her husband her unlikely story.