“Well, I’ll be. It looks like we’ve stumbled onto a piece of that Titan that the Razorback’s initial scan missed. We’re at least a mile from the presumed western limit of that debris field. It this guy’s for real, it could drastically change our search area. What do you say about latching onto it and bringing it topside with us?”
“It might not look like much, but that segment probably weighs quite a bit,” offered Blackmore.
“Can we handle it at this depth and all?”
“We’ll have to call in a specialist on that one,” returned Pierce.
“What do you think, Ensign Marvin, can we manage it?”
Scooting in between the two officers, Louis stretched over to peer out Pierce’s viewing scope.
“Bingo, Commander! She could prove a challenge, yet how can we resist the try?”
“That’s the type of prognosis I like to hear,” answered Pierce.
“Get back there and ready the articulated manipulator arms. Ensign. We’ll soon all know just how much muscle this little lady can throw around.”
A familiar knot had returned to settle in Blackmore’s stomach as he watched Marvin pull himself back into the pressure capsule. A vacant, distracted stare was on his face when a calm, deep voice sounded from his left.
“Hang in there. Lieutenant. We’ll pull this off yet.”
Meeting the probing stare of the man these words came from, Blackmore could hardly believe what he was seeing. Had a split-second of compassion actually emanated from behind that all-seeing gaze, or were his nerves merely playing tricks with him?
He’d never know for certain, for the commander soon returned his attention to the controls. Cold and efficient, he went about the job of positioning the Marlin over the piece of debris with a surgeon’s deftness. Inspired by his professionalism, the young lieutenant bent forward to assist the grizzled veteran in whatever way possible.
Chapter Nine
It was a call from Lieutenant Colonel Lansford’s office that sent Richard Fuller packing for Vandenberg’s Point Arguello dock site As he left Lompoc, the late afternoon sky was a clear blue, and it continued that way until he passed Ocean Beach Park. There the sun was in the process of being blocked out by a thick bank of advancing fog. The mist increased in density as he continued on towards the coastline. By the time he reached the Arguello dock site there were barely two feet of forward visibility.
With some difficulty, he managed to find the parking lot. Outside it was cool, moist, and strangely quiet. Beyond the hushed chop of the surf sounded the distant, mournful cry of a fog horn. Imagining what it would be like to be on the sea on an afternoon such as this one, he found it took his total effort just to find the walkway. The narrow, asphalt footpath he soon found himself on passed through a rolling section of desertlike scrub, sand, and volcanic rock.
Barely able to see immediately before him, he knew he was approaching the surf only because its characteristic sound gradually increased with each step forward. The ripe scent of its presence was thick in his nostrils and he soon spied the ghostly outline of his goal, the site’s massive corrugated-steel warehouse.
Originally designed to hold up to five of the space shuttle’s 154-foot-long, 69,000-pound external solid-rocket booster tanks, the facility currently housed an object of a much different nature.
Totally chilled by the moist fog, Fuller gratefully ducked into the warehouse’s entrance. The structure’s cavernous interior was dominated by a cathedral-like ceiling and, beneath it, an immense central work space. Brightly lit, it was presently empty except for a pair of figures standing at the room’s center. It was towards these individuals that the Nose scientist was drawn.
From his rumpled khaki uniform and full head of gray hair, Fuller was able to identify one of these men as being the commander of the DSRV Marlin. The young fellow that he was animatedly conversing with was dressed in black slacks, a white shirt, and a red tie. He carried a clipboard, and appeared to be some sort of engineer rather than a military man. Their attention was riveted on a jagged eight-and-a-half-foot-long, six-foot-wide piece of shiny metal which lay on the concrete floor before them. It wasn’t until Richard Fuller arrived at their sides that he viewed the flame-scarred blue circle and white five-pointed star that was painted on this object’s side.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” said Fuller somberly.
“Lieutenant Colonel Lansford mentioned that I could most probably find you down here. I see you’ve brought us up a little souvenir from the deep, Commander.”
As the Nose scientist kneeled down to examine the piece of wreckage more clearly, Will Pierce responded, “That we have. Doc. We brought it up from a depth of 1,640 feet, from the eastern tip of Arguello Canyon.”
“Ah, then you were coming in when you spotted it,” returned Fuller, who carefully ran his hand over the object’s cool metal skin.
Pierce knelt down beside him.
“Actually, we were just going out. The Razorback had to drop us off early, to play tag with a suspected Soviet Bogy.”
“You don’t say,” observed Richard thoughtfully.
“I guess that was fortunate for us. Otherwise you might have passed this piece by. I must admit that its location certainly changes our projections as to the extent of that debris field. Apparently, it extends over twice as tar as the Razorback’s preliminary scan indicated.”
“And who knows how much further west it lies,” added Pierce.
“I doubt that you’ll be encountering much more of the Titan’s remains past this point,” remarked the young man who still stood above them with his clipboard in hand. Having attracted the newcomer’s attention, he added, “Hello, I’m David Downing with McDonnell Douglas
Fuller stood to exchange handshakes.
“And I’m Dr. Richard Fuller with the Naval Oceans Systems Command. May I ask what makes you feel that we’ve hit upon the debris field’s limit?”
“Why, of course,” responded the engineer, whose eyes gleamed with intellect.
“You see, this particular piece of cowling comes from the upper section of the Titan. It’s placed where the missile’s two solid-rocket boosters attach onto the second stage. My company manufactures the Titan’s payload fairing that sits directly above this portion. Since the rocket failed while arcing up over the Pacific, this piece of debris should indicate that the nose cone lies nearby. This means that the remainder of the wreckage would most probably be found in a rough line extending toward the shore.”
“That makes sense to me,” added Pierce, who stood stiffly to join them.
“Let’s just hope that the payload is indeed close by. Arguello Canyon drops off sharply west of the spot where we picked this guy up.
And I don’t have to remind you how unforgiving that valley’s walls can be.”
“Then I guess that’s where you’ll be returning to continue your search,” said Fuller.
Suddenly conscious of the time. Pierce checked his watch.
“Right on. Doc. The Department of Defense isn’t going to rest easy until we snag that precious payload. So, to make certain that the Marlin is ready to go at first light, I’d better get back to the dock.”
“Take care in this fog and all,” said Richard.
The grizzled commander was already pivoting to exit as he answered, “When you’re diving down over 1,600 feet, into a volcanic canyon whose floor isn’t even as wide as three football fields, this fog is the least of our problems.”
Both men looked on as the veteran Naval officer crisply exited. As the door echoed shut behind him, Richard Fuller returned his attention to the piece of debris that lay before him.
“Any guesses as to why this baby failed, Mr.
Downing? ” The engineer shifted his weight uneasily.