“You can wave goodbye to the surface now,” Costas said.
“At least it’ll still be daylight when we return,” Jack murmured. “That’s something to look forward to.”
Costas opened up the ballast tanks and a geyser of water erupted on either side of the Aquapod, settling to a bubbling ferment as the submersible slowly trimmed down in the water and became negatively buoyant. For a few moments as the sea level rose up the dome in front of them they were looking at two worlds, both awesome in their magnitude. Above them was the towering form of the iceberg, familiar now yet still breathtaking, its hues of green and blue refracted through the flecks of brash that plastered the dome. Below them was a world as different as outer space, a place nature never intended them to broach. The Arctic waters were astonishingly clear, with visibility extending a hundred metres or more in every direction, and the sheer wall of the berg dropped below them as far as they could see into the frigid depths of the fjord. It was a stupefying sight, and for a few moments they stared in stunned silence as the dome slipped under the surface.
“Holy shit!” Costas exclaimed suddenly. “Taking evasive action!”
Costas gunned the main thruster and swung the Aquapod down towards the berg. Out of the corner of his eye Jack could see what Costas had sensed just in time, a rhythmic commotion in the water from within the fjord, a slow-motion whirling that was advancing relentlessly towards them. The deeper they dropped the larger it loomed, like some nightmare tormentor from which there was no escape. Jack fleetingly remembered Maria’s warning about the wolf Fenrir and the edge of the world, about forces even the gods could not control. They jetted down until they were nearly vertical, plummeting straight into the blackness of the abyss.
“Brace yourself!” Costas yelled.
A scything wall of white suddenly appeared out of the tumult, an apparition that bore down on them with horrifying speed and then swept past the front of the dome with inches to spare. They were jolted violently to one side. Costas fought to keep the Aquapod from spiralling out of control, then righted the submersible and brought it to a standstill. Above them they caught a glimpse of the giant slab of ice as it tumbled towards the open sea, swirling away until nothing but a mist of bubbles was left to mark its progress.
“That was close,” Costas said.
“I thought all this was supposed to end six months ago,” Jack said plaintively. “A quiet life of contemplation, tending the garden and writing my memoirs.”
“Yeah, right,” Costas replied. “Anyway, we needed some excitement to kick-start the adrenaline for what we’re doing next.”
Now that the water was calm again they looked around, and both men fell silent. They had plummeted to a depth of nearly a hundred metres, and the DSRV was now far above them, with two divers just visible outside and silvery trails of bubbles cascading up the ice towards the surface. The immense face of the berg filled the view in front of them, at this depth all colour lost except blue. It had a surreal tint, an azure glow that made it loom at them like a mirage. They could see huge concavities where the current had eroded the ice away, and a vast skid mark of sediment and rock fragments where the berg had scraped against the side of the fjord. And below them, far below, barely discernible in the darkness, they could just make out a sepulchral landscape of boulders and undulations, a shadowy ridge that dropped off into an infinity of blackness on either side. It was a savaged and rutted seascape, pulverized by ice, and they knew it was one of the most dangerous places in all the oceans.
“The threshold of the icefjord,” Jack murmured. “We must be the first people ever to see it.”
“Awesome,” Costas whispered.
“Not a place I want to go,” Jack replied.
“Roger that.” Costas turned his attention to the instrument panel and injected a blast of air into the buoyancy chambers, bringing the Aquapod towards the berg until it was directly under the DSRV. “Ben, this is Aquapod One, safe and sound. We’ll be with you in five minutes. Out.”
The Deep Submergence Rescue Vehicle from Seaquest II featured a small internal dock, an open pool that allowed the dome of an Aquapod to rise into a chamber at the rear of the submersible. As Jack looked up at the belly of the DSRV, he watched the dock door slide open and saw the wavering form of a figure staring down at them from inside the chamber. Two divers appeared on either side of the Aquapod and hooked on four anchoring cables that slowly drew them up. As they broke surface and the dome opened up inside the cramped space, they were met by the welcoming face of Ben Kershaw, a former Royal Marine who had been at the centre of the action in the Black Sea six months before and had recently taken over as chief security officer on Seaquest II. Jack reached out and took the hand proffered to help him up, then shook it warmly once he was on the narrow gangway that ringed the dock.
“Thought it’d be a while before I saw you back inside a submarine.”
“All in a day’s work.” Ben looked serious. “Everything okay?”
“A small brush with a growler.”
“We noticed. We thought you were goners. The fjord’s become more active in the last twenty-four hours, with more big chunks of ice like that calving off the glacier.”
“I want you away from here as soon as we’re gone,” Jack said.
“What happens if you need to bail out?”
Jack was firm. “We can surface and fire a flare. We’ve got the radio buoy. I don’t want anyone in the danger zone if this berg shifts. I want the DSRV back at the ship. We’ve had too much loss already over the last year, and I don’t want to put anyone else’s life on the line.”
“What about me?” Costas gave Jack a look of mock indignation as he lurched out of the Aquapod and crouched down beside them.
“Oh, you’re expendable. You should know that by now.”
“Yeah, there’s always Lanowski to take my place.”
Jack grimaced and the two other men laughed, a noticeable easing of the tension they had all felt. “Okay, point taken. I promise I’ll look after you like a father. Now let’s get this show on the road.”
Jack followed Ben through the bulkhead hatch that divided the docking chamber from the main compartment of the DSRV, his tall frame stooped almost double in the confined space. Around the floor ring where the DSRV could dock with a stricken submarine were two identical arrangements of diving equipment, and Costas stooped down behind them to do a quick inventory. Jack followed Ben a few feet farther to the command station at the front of the submersible, and Costas joined them moments later. They nodded to the crewman who was sitting in the pilot’s chair, a battery of monitors and instrument panels in front of him, then squatted down on either side of Ben behind the navigation console as he activated the screen.
“We’ve plotted a best-fit route,” Ben said. “Ideally we’d have you go in shallower, but we’re protected here by a ridge in the ice from any calving off the berg. We’ll put you in breathing nitrox, which will give you a longer bottom time than air at thirty metres.”
“Umbilical?” Jack said.
“Right. We’ll hook you up to the cylinders in the DSRV. That way you’ll conserve the gas you’re carrying with you.”
“It’s crucial we avoid exhausting gas inside the berg,” Jack said. “Lanowski was clear on that one.”
“Have no fear,” Costas interjected. “A little gizmo I’ve been playing with at HQ. There’s no problem with exhaust when you dive down into a wreck, right? You can prevent it pooling and damaging whatever you’re diving into by putting it through a tube that’s buoyed upwards, venting the exhaust above the wreck. The difficulty comes the other way, when you’re going up into a structure from below.”
“You pump it out.”
“Right. We’ll be hooked up to two hoses, one bringing us the nitrox and the other extracting the exhaust and venting it outside the berg. Not sure how it’s going to behave in the cold.” Costas rubbed his hands in anticipation. “Should be fun to try.”