She kept in contact with Mickey up on the surface, but radio waves traveled more slowly the deeper one went—which was why a deep-sea submersible like D-Plus was connected to fiber optics for data and video and lines for voice and other communications. These lines were encased in armored steel and were supposed to be as close to indestructible as possible. That was because fail-proof systems were essential in extreme environments like those Sean and Kat were aiming for with this expedition. Supposed to be indestructible. At least, that was if no one with specialized knowledge—and some kind of motivation, obviously—got to them when no one was looking.
But delay or not, saboteur on the loose or not, Mickey on Piranha II kept the video and other sensors tightly focused on the line that was all that was keeping Kat on D-Plus from sinking, fatally, to the bottom. If she had been able to jettison the ballast—which was done with the push of exactly two buttons and a switch—it would have made Sean’s job of grabbing hold of the cable just above D-Plus with the JSL’s clamp-like “hands” and bringing her up much easier.
Easy wasn’t happening in this FUBAR situation anyway, but trying to bring up D-Plus loaded down with ballast might be impossible for an ancient gadget like the JSL. Sean would jettison his own ballast when he got to her, so at least he would retain some buoyancy.
As was always the case in their line of work, they’d just have to go with what was even infinitesimally possible and make it a dead-certain reality.
It was obvious that rescue of D-Plus—and, more importantly, Katherine—fell into this category. No one could blame him for failing, but everyone still would. He still would. He needed to show everyone that he could do this, save the day. Mariners were an odd lot who might call off the next dive “because of weather,” since they were empowered to make the final decision. Theoretically, this took into consideration the science team’s input, of course; but the professional sailors on board knew that, outside of a storm forcing waves over the deck, the scientists would always choose to dive. Thus, oftentimes the “consideration” of the scientists’ opinions meant “seeming to listen and then doing what real men and women of the sea thought right and proper.” So it was best to avoid discomfort in the sailing crew.
Also, of course, if they lost this submersible—even if it during an unmanned test—it would render funding for of his any further dives highly unlikely. His and Kat’s funding, that was. She wasn’t dead yet. He had to not think like that, Jesus.
Not yet, anyway.
D-Plus and similar research submersibles were designed to be pulled up by the same cable that guided them down. That would make it a hell of a lot easier to drag it back up with the JSL, which was built for exploration mostly in the euphotic zone, not for its gripping or lifting power. Of course, there never would have been a problem like this if the deep-sea sub dived and rose under its own power. But that’s just not how it worked anymore, the cable being needed for heavy data and communications demands if not for lowering and lifting the submersible.
Mickey told him which ways to activate the JSL’s small water jets to keep the vessel the right distance from the cable. Not that this was in any way a “normal” operation, but the usual and much less difficult way of approaching would have been for Sean in the JSL to loop onto the cable itself and just slide down to the research sub. However, that option wasn’t available to them since it was a flaw in the cable itself (Ha! That’s the understatement of the year, Sean scoffed despite himself) that had put the submersible in peril in the first place. One strong tug on that line and it would snap up on the boat and that would be that for his wife; the ballast-weighted D-Plus would be much too heavy for the smaller and lighter JSL to hold.
They had gotten extremely lucky—or less unlucky, he guessed, because this was not a lucky day—that the surface was almost mirror-calm that day. Choppy or “confused” seas, when you couldn’t tell which way the water was going to take you, put a lot more stress on the cable.
And that stress was exactly what the damaged cable couldn’t take.
The JSL’s descent went smoothly, Mickey letting him know how things looked and also relaying any messages from Kat and doing the same for Sean’s messages to his wife.
In fact, it went so smoothly that his mind drifted.
Diving to just three thousand feet wasn’t going to be any help with the expedition’s goals, but they had been on the path to the benthic zone, where they’d found evidence that a line of hydrothermal vents stretched for several thousand miles from just north of Hawaii right up to the Marianas Trench. Maybe continued in the Marianas Trench, so little had those extreme depths been explored in any detail.
Heat was at the center of his theories. When the oceans cooled and put the Permian Extinction into motion, most aquatic dinosaurs died off—actually, 95 percent of everything in the oceans and a huge percentage of things living on land, including dinosaurs. But where the ocean remained warm, even hot, was at the bottom, near the network of hydrothermal sulfur vents.
The idea came to Sean Muir five years earlier, when he was a graduate student in oceanography with a specialty in undersea geology at UCSD. He went on a deep-sea expedition with his advisor and two other grad students the professor was mentoring. It wasn’t some kind of historic outing, diving in a well-explored area just off the California coast, but it was deep enough that there was no light except for the glow around their four-person submersible caused by the sub’s own floods.
Looking at the constant snowy fall of organic material destined for the ocean floor could hold one’s interest for only so long, but they weren’t underwater for an hour when his advisor said, “Do you see that? This is a fount of life, lady and gentlemen!”
The submersible had many viewports, and they all got a look at the odd orange-yellow light coming from the ocean floor. It was only about 1,500 feet down, but it presented a completely alien world. The vent had things all around it, things that looked like those giant inflatable men at car dealerships and such, beckoning buyers just by random movement catching their eyes: tube worms.
It was the same principle at work here—all four of them were mesmerized by the giant sea worms, securely attached to the seafloor but being blown around by the sulfur-rich, superheated water coming from the tectonic rip.
“I wish we could get closer, but that heat would overpower the sub and boil all of us faster than trout in a steam basket,” he said. “But look—it’s an ecosystem like none other. These worms—and amoebas so large they’re visible to the human eye—thrive directly on the chemicals pouring out, and then there are predators even down here ready to eat them, starting a food chain without the slightest thing to do with sunlight.”
“Predators?” Sean asked in a dreamy voice.
“Oh, yes, there are albino squid down here, octopoids, jumbo shrimp relatives, and there are signs of even more complex life. Even vertebrates.”
One of the other grad students spoke up: “Wouldn’t their bones get crushed at this depth?”