“I’ll squeeze through.”
“Okay, we’ll aim for that one.” Sam looked at Tom. At six foot five inches tall and 220 pounds of muscle, his shoulders barely looked like they’d squeeze through. It would be like threading a needle at high speed. “Just remember, there’s going to one hell of a pressure build up through that point. Like the drain in a bath tub, all the surrounding seawater will be competing to enter. If you strike an edge of the hull, you’ll be dead before you realize your mistake.”
Tom grinned. “Then I’d better not make a mistake.”
The sort of statement, made by any other person, and Sam would have mistaken it for overconfidence and stupidity. But with Tom, it was simply the byproduct of a lifetime of diving.
“All right, let’s do this.”
The water near the razor sharp gash spun as it approached the opening in a torrent of powerful seawater.
Sam opened the throttle. And his Sea Scooter came to life. Driving him rapidly towards the open wound in the hull.
Chapter Sixty Two
The Sea Scooter pulled in a multitude of directions while Sam fought to keep it on track with the opening. The currents were powerful and kept trying to send him of course. It pulled him slightly to the left, making him drive towards the hull and not the opening.
He cut out the electric throttle.
He was drifting sideways towards the opening. At seven feet to the gash he opened the throttle to maximum and the Sea Scooter sped in through the tiny hole.
Like threading a needle.
Inside the seawater turned and spun in powerful eddies, trying to consume the empty hull. Bubbles frothed to the surface, as the water competed against the air inside for space. Sam slowly surfaced. His head popped above the water.
The room was entirely dark with the exception of Sam’s shoulder-mounted LED. He cracked an orange military-grade glow stick and the entire room lit up. Sam quickly studied the room. The ceiling was thirty feet above him, and he judged the water was another twenty below. It was narrow, maybe only ten feet wide. Probably a safety compartment between the oil tanks. Some safety compartment – the water tight doors were still intact.
The gas inside the compartment was warm. Enough to make breathing uncomfortable, but not yet lethal. That was, if it was air. Sam had already been informed that each compartment of the Mississippi’s lower decks had been pumped with inert gas to reduce the risk of combustion. Oil itself is very difficult to ignite, but its hydrocarbon vapors are explosive when mixed with air in certain concentrations. Consequently, Sam brought enough air supply to last until he was off the supertanker.
“Okay, Tom – your turn.”
“Well done Sam. Now, I’ll show you how it’s done.”
The water inside the hull had risen so that Sam could step onto a steel grate that formed the platform for a series of ladders. He swam to the side of it and stood up. Above he looked for the large red handle used for the manual releases that controlled the fixed deck foam system and solidifying system.
He spotted them almost immediately.
They were situated directly above him. Three separate ladders were all that separated him from reaching them. It would be an easy climb. He didn’t wait for Tom. If those fires reached the main oil compartment, the ship could still be blown to pieces. He was worried about Tom entering the hole in the ship. Its edges were sharp like the edge of an open can. One mistake, and Tom would be dead. There was nothing he could do about it if something went wrong.
And so he concentrated on climbing.
Hand over hand, Sam took two rungs at a time. He breathed deeper while he worked and the ambient temperature rose dramatically the closer he got to the ceiling. He’d seen the flames from above more than twenty minutes earlier – Sam knew the deck above him was well alight with flame. And oil fueled flames burn extremely hot.
A slight creak resonated in the deck above.
He increased his pace despite the burning sensation in his muscles. On the third level he stood atop the grate and examined the twin leavers. One was red with blue rings and the other was black with yellow rings. He pulled the blue one first – hopefully activating the fixed deck foam system, followed by the black one – activating the oil solidifier.
He waited for a sound. Anything to reassure him that it had worked.
There were crackles of flame above.
Followed by silence.
Tom poked his head above the surface of the water. “I’m in Sam.”
“Great. I’ve already pulled the manual releases for the safety systems. But I have no idea if they’ve activated yet.”
“We won’t know a thing until we get out.”
Sam moved to the edge of the platform he was on. “I wonder if we can get to the next section from here. I’d feel better if I knew for certain we had successfully triggered the safety systems.”
Tom started to surface swim towards the steel grate. “Okay, give me a second to get out of here, and join you.”
Sam tried to reply, but his words never reached Tom.
A large explosion above choked his voice. The entire ship shuddered in turmoil. Sam moved to the side to brace himself.
And then the deck above collapsed.
Sam looked on in horror, as part of the deck – a still burning section of steel nearly fifteen feet in length by another eight in width, detached. The steel fell to the water below, where Tom was completely vulnerable.
It made another violent crash as it struck the water, sending steam high into the air. Sam looked above him again. Foam was pouring into the opening. It had worked – the fixed foam safety system had been activated. Below, the smoldering wreckage and burning steam replaced the spot where Tom had been surface swimming.
Chapter Sixty Three
Sam clambered down the ladders. Half sliding, half falling. He reached the first rung of the third ladder and stopped. The water had risen so that it now almost covered the entire third ladder. Sam dipped his head into the water trying to see any sign of Tom. There were bubbles gurgling everywhere and steam shooting off the red hot steel. The previously cold seawater now felt warm to touch.
“Tom, tell me you’re alive!”
Silence.
Sam didn’t wait for a response. He jumped into the water, released air from his BCD and sunk to the bottom of the hull. The remains of the steel framed deck rested up at a slight angle, maybe twenty degrees to his left. Something had blocked it from sitting flat when it reached the rounded bottom of the hull. Air bubbles formed by the edge of the steel as it turned the water beneath to steam, which now flowed like the turbid froth found in white water rapids across the edge and up to the surface.
He made a little over half a circuit of the damaged deck before he saw it under the sharp edge of the broken deck. Difficult to make out from any distance because of the bubbles, Sam had only noticed it because it changed the natural contour of the flow of bubbles. Close up, he was able to confirm exactly what it was – Tom’s Sea Scooter, crushed to about five inches thick.
“Tom, can you hear me?” he said.
More silence.
Sam shined his flashlight underneath the deck. There was nothing there. Certainly no signs of Tom’s body. That has to count for something. Sam returned to the surface. He scanned the area from top to bottom. Still no signs of Tom.
About to dive again he felt a hand on his right shoulder and turned.
Tom grinned back.
“You’re alive!” Sam said, gripping his shoulder.
Tom made no response. Sam frowned. A few moments later Tom handed him a dive slate. On it were the words “My radio’s been damaged.”
Sam nodded his head and replied. “I see. Let’s get out of here.”
Tom shook his head. Scribbled on the dive slate. “Can’t leave. Sea Scooter dead. Can’t swim against current.”
Sam understood immediately. “What if I tow you?”
“Are you kidding me? I’d be hanging out the back like a trailer
. With your driving skills, I’d rather take my chances swimming on my own.”
“You want to wait until the fire stops, or the ship sinks completely?”
Tom began writing a new message. He was interrupted by a second loud explosion. This time, burning oil began spilling into their compartment. Tom scratched the message and then simply wrote. “Let’s try your way.”
Chapter Sixty Four
Sam gripped the left and right throttles of the Sea Scooter and Tom locked his big hands to his ankles. He made it cumbersome as hell, but Sam hoped the overall power of the Sea Scooter’s bi-jet propulsion would overcome it. Sam slowly maneuvered the craft through the multitude of fallen bits of wreckage now inside the hull.
He was cautious at first, and then he heard the violent shock of another explosion. Instinctively he picked up the pace. Swerving to the left to miss two large hanging sets of steel chains he wanted to set himself up for the straightest advance towards the opening in the hull.
A fourth explosion resonated through the hull!
That was followed by the sound of metal tearing and then falling. Oh shit! Sam gave up on his original plan to aim for a longer, but straighter approach to the savage opening in the ship. He saw it now directly below and to his left. The tumultuous and chaotic water still flowed through the relatively tiny opening at a devilish pace.
Sam heard the splash as the steel above him struck the water. He then felt a crushing sensation as Tom squeezed both his ankles. Time had just run out. He pointing the Sea Scooter straight down, and opened both throttles to full.
He felt the onslaught of rushing seawater strike him like the collision of a small truck. They were jolted to the right. Sam corrected his steering to the left. And then they reached the opening – a four foot by three-foot gash in the side of the steel hull.
The Sea Scooter was forced to a crawl. The pressure increased and Sam wasn’t certain they were going to make it through or be shot back towards the falling metal. Locked into a powerful battle between the outside pressure and the powerful bi-jet propulsion system, Sam crawled through the opening.
The pressure then changed.
Behind him, the large steel wreckage caused a shockwave directly behind him. It was just enough to change the battle for power, and suddenly the Sea Scooter had the upper hand.
They shot through the opening.
A moment later they were out of the strong pull towards the hole. Now released, the Sea Scooter charged like a bull let out of a gate.
Sam sighed a breath of relief. They had half a mile to travel to clear the oil streaked-surface, and they would be safe. Back onto the Maria Helena as heroes. They had pulled it off. The impossible had once more been achieved.
He grinned. This one’s going to go down in the record books for good luck.
And then his luck ran out.
Chapter Sixty Five
Sam took another breath. It was hard. The air was somehow thicker and more resistant. He forced himself to breathe slowly and fill his lungs.
He looked behind his right shoulder. The edge of the exoskeleton dive tank was missing. He must have clipped it on the razor sharp edge of the Mississippi’s broken hull. Above him, the oil-slicked surface ran longer than his vision could see.
By the third breath, he was out completely. He couldn’t even share with Tom because his entire system had been damaged, and there was no longer any place for him to connect Tom’s secondary regulator.
Sam slowly breathed out through pursed lips. About five years ago, he won the international free diving competition at the Devil’s Hole. Of course, he’d been training for it then, and the stakes weren’t life and death.
He kept both throttles fully open and the Sea Scooter screamed towards the clear surface. Sam had no way of keeping track of the time that passed, but he could feel the euphoria and delirium sneaking up.
Then he saw the clear surface up ahead.
He drove diagonally so that he shot up through the surface. Within seconds he had his helmet off and took several deep breaths of fresh air. Only the air wasn’t fresh. It was full of smoke and oil. But it was enough to keep him alive.
Tom removed his helmet and examined the missing section of Sam’s exoskeleton dive tank. “I told you you’re a lousy driver. I had to use all my strength to avoid being thrown into the edge of the opening, and opened like a can of sardines myself.”
Sam smiled. “Hey, if you hadn’t carelessly wrecked your own scooter, I wouldn’t have had to save your ass. But I’m glad you’re alive.”
Tom looked at the smoldering wreckage of the Mississippi. “There’s more smoke than I remember, but I don’t see as many flames. Do you think it worked?”
“I know it did. The foam was flying everywhere through the opening in the deck. I think we just pulled off a miracle for the local environment.” Sam ran his hands along a bulge in his BCD. He recalled the science beaker that Veyron had given him. “One problem though. I couldn’t find any of that green phosphorescent plankton that Veyron wanted me to get. Which means, we’re no closer to working out what’s causing this.”
Tom grinned at him. Pulled something out of his BCD pocked and said, “You mean, some of this?”
Chapter Sixty Six
It was dawn by the time the last of the fires went out on board the Mississippi. The oil solidifiers did their job by stopping the release of any more oil, which meant that what was left could only burn for so long. On the deck the fixed foam spray system choked the life out of the last of the flames.
All in all, it was probably the best response to a near disaster involving an oil supertanker in the last century. It was also the luckiest. Veyron and Tom had gone across earlier in the Sea King to rig a 16-inch hawser rope through the Mississippi’s cat hole. The thick rope, used for towing and mooring, appeared tiny compared to the massive supertanker. They had coordinated with Matthew and remained there while the Maria Helena got underway.
Sam had spoken to the owners of the oil company, who arranged for a shipping yard in Florida to take the Mississippi out of the water. They had also arranged for a dry tanker to meet the Maria Helena off shore in order to decant the remaining oil before the Mississippi was brought out of the water for repairs.
Sam remained on the Maria Helena to manage the logistics of the lost oil cleanup. The damage had been negligible considering the potentially catastrophic amount of oil on board. The owners of the company commenced their risk management plans.
It was nearly ten a.m. and he still hadn’t slept. The Mississippi would be under tow for at least another twenty-four hours. Sam smiled to himself. He could finally get some sleep. He showered and was about to get into his bed when the cell phone rang again.
“Am I speaking with Mr. Sam Reilly?” It was a woman’s voice. Warm and confident. And somehow familiar to him. Although he couldn’t be sure where to place it in particular.
“Yes, who is this?” Sam replied.
“My name is Vanessa Croft.”
“I know who you are. You’ve just been given the democratic nominee for President.”
“I don’t know about given. It was quite a fight, but yes, I’m running for President.”
Sam grinned. “You must be a busy woman Senator. How may I be of service?” Sam was curt, but not unkind.
“I’ve heard about what you did with the Mississippi oil tanker. You saved a lot of lives. Both on the ship and in the surrounding areas. From what I’m told the entire region could have very easily been destroyed if you hadn’t arrived when you did.”
“You’re welcome. But don’t give me too much credit. I scored a large percentage of the remainder of nearly two million barrels of crude oil. They’ve agreed to Lloyds Open Form – don’t worry, I will be well compensated for my efforts.”
“Don’t be ridiculous young man. I know who you are. That sort of money means little to you. You did that because you wanted to save the environment from the catastrophic possibilities of losing all two million barrels i
nto the ocean.”
Of course a politician can tell when someone is lying. She must have told enough of her own to know one. “What can I do for you Ma’am?” he persisted.
“I’m coming out to personally thank you for your assistance. And then I’ll tell you exactly what you can do for me, and for your country.”
Chapter Sixty Seven
Senator Vanessa Croft looked at the damaged supertanker below. The military helicopter gave her an eagle eye view of the averted disaster by making a circuit from above. She’d insisted on getting the information first hand. Her dark brown eyes, wide with excitement, studied the wreckage now under tow.
The hull itself had a number of slight ripples starting from the bow and moving about two thirds of the way along the hull. At first she wondered if they were part of the Mississippi’s naval engineering to increase strength. Then it hit her. The hull had been struck with such monumental force that the entire hull had begun to bend and concertina in on itself. There were several small cracks where the hull could no longer withstand the force of the bend. The deck was black. Burn marks reached the full length of the ship and about half way up the raised bridge towards its stern.
At least twenty engineers had been flown onto the vessel and were currently working below to ensure that it remained afloat long enough to have its oil decanted. She watched as they moved chaotically around the deck.
She felt her heart quicken as she considered her first press statement. Heroes were still working furiously to save the ocean. The gods of elections had smiled kindly and delivered her with a story to take her to the Presidency. She could never have afforded that kind of publicity on her own budget.
Vanessa knew that a good candidate was voted in by the love of the nation, but a candidate is more likely to be voted in on the hate of a nation. Channel that hatred and the mobs will carry you straight to the top. The only difference in her circumstance in contrast to many dictators, was that in this case, the mobs had a right to be angry – and she was the good guy who was going to make it right again.
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