Breakthrough

by Michael C. Grumley

  Caesare’s chin dipped into the water when he nodded. “That was the only thing I could think of. You go out firs-” he suddenly stopped talking when he noticed Clay staring at something over his shoulder. He turned and looked out what was left of the side window. Two large shapes were approaching. At that moment they felt a sensation and looked up at the depth gauge. The weight of the sub had overcome the strength of the propellers. The K-955 began sliding back down. The gauge increased to twenty-two feet, then twenty-three, and twenty-four. It was quickly falling downward.

  Caesare looked back out the window. The whales were getting closer. “What in the hell is their problem?!”

  They both knew that they could not open the hatch unless the entire cockpit was filled with water. With the water rising quickly, that would not take long, but the whales would reach them first. Even if they could survive another impact the sub was now descending fast enough that by the time they were able to get outside they would be too far down to make it to the surface; that is unless they wanted a fatal case of the bends.

  Clay looked at his friend. “This may be it.”

  Caesare gave a silent nod. They both tilted their faces up and away from the rising water then reached out to the sides to get a strong hold, readying for the impact.

  Both of the men turned unexpectedly when they heard a sound from outside, a loud clunk and the sound of metal dragging against the front of the hull.

  “What was that?” First Clay then Caesare dunked their heads beneath the water and pressed their faces to the large bubble window. A blurry shadow could be seen through the glass, a human figure.

  Emerson, Tay and two other crewmen stood on the large flat platform of the Pathfinder’s stern. With two on each side of the platform, they tried to maintain their balance over the ship’s rocking while each fed a large cable into the blue water. End over end, their hands moved deftly to keep the cables from becoming taut. On one side, Emerson and Tay fed a thick black oxygen line while the men across the platform fed a large steel cable from a giant wheel behind them.

  Beneath the water, Lightfoot was dressed in nothing but his boxer shorts, a mask, and fins, holding onto the front of the K-955 sub which he could feel sinking beneath him. Lightfoot worked to attach the thick cable to the sub without getting his oxygen line wrapped up in it. He wore a full mask which covered his entire face and gave him excellent visibility, but as he desperately tried to pull himself up and over the top of the sub, his heavy breathing was beginning to fog the glass. The benefit of the full face mask was that it provided an undistorted view and allowed the person to speak while working, but Lightfoot was putting out a great deal of carbon dioxide and overwhelming the gentle flow of oxygen which kept it clear.

  As Lightfoot scampered on top, he saw the large steel loops used by the winch to lower it from the ship. He grabbed one and pulled himself closer, careful not to lose his grip on the cable. He pulled hard on the cable and managed to get it a foot closer. It was getting tighter as the sub continued to fall back into the depths faster than Emerson and his team could feed it down. Lightfoot pulled himself closer and passed over the small window on top of the sub. Glancing down, Lightfoot could make out the interior lights which were very dim and now completely submerged below the water inside. The silhouettes of Clay and Caesare were both staring back at him, each breathing through a small air canister.

  Inside Clay raised his head and grabbed the controls again. He needs some slack! He pulled the stick all the way back, tilting the craft up with what little power they still had.

  As the K-955 inched higher, Lightfoot pulled hard again on the cable and got just enough slack to run through one of the giant loops. He grimaced as he struggled to push the end through, but with one last effort he managed to clip the large hook up and back onto itself. He pressed his mask closer to verify it was secure, then pushed a large button on the side of his mask.

  “She’s hooked!” he yelled.

  His voice was broadcast up and over the ship’s external speakers. When Tay heard Lightfoot’s voice he ran across the platform and wrapped his hand around a chromed colored lever. He forced it up several notches to engage the motor at full power. The giant platform on the stern suddenly dipped deeply into the water as it counteracted the inertia of the sub’s descent. They all stumbled and turned when the motor let out a terrible screech before eventually beginning to turn, pulling in the cable.

  Below them, Lightfoot was sliding off the top when the sub jerked upward. He quickly grabbed hold of the thick rubber oxygen line. Above him on deck, Emerson’s two extra crewmen jumped to the other side of the platform to help pull the oxygen line back in hand over hand.

  They ignored the churning of the motor as it continued to reel in the cable, turning faster and faster.

  As they pulled him up, Lightfoot kicked his feet hard to try to catch the sub. Once on the surface, he needed to get the sub’s hatch open as quickly as possible. Clay and Caesare had been completely submerged inside for several minutes which meant their canisters would soon be out of usable air. Lightfoot got close enough to grasp the hatch handle and hang on, riding the sub as it rose to the surface.

  “Fifteen feet,” said Harris over the loud speakers.

  Emerson looked up at the announcement then back to his men. “Okay, get to the edge and hold on. She’s coming up hard!”

  The four men held onto something near the end of the platform to steady themselves. The wheel behind them was turning now at top speed. This was going to be rough as there was no chance to bleed off any momentum before the sub breached the surface which meant it was going to overshoot. And since the cable was fed directly over the side of the stern rather than from the large extended winch, the sub was most likely going to come up hard under the Pathfinder.

  “Ten feet!” called Harris’ voice.

  Moments later the sub smashed into the underside of the Pathfinder’s stern platform. All four men were lifted completely off the deck and into the air along with everything else that was not nailed down. Equipment and tools flew everywhere, and they all came down hard together. One of Emerson’s junior crewmen lost his grip and slipped overboard, hitting the K-955’s now exposed tail and disappeared into the waves.

  “Man Overboard!” yelled Emerson. The other junior crewman nodded and searched for his shipmate. Once spotted, he grabbed a float ring and jumped in after him, barely avoiding the sub as it pitched and rolled out from under the Pathfinder. A deafening shriek of metal on metal filled the air as the port side of the sub scraped along the bottom of the platform before finally freeing itself. As it rotated freely, Lightfoot popped up out of the white swell still holding onto the hatch. He ripped off his mask and turned toward the circular door, straddling his legs across the top. He shook the water out of his face and gripped the handle hard turning it with everything he had. The wheel relented and slowly began to turn. Lightfoot kept working it and then, with a heave, pulled it open. Instantly, hundreds of gallons of water came flooding out along with two large dark figures.

  As the water poured out, the weight of the sub quickly changed and it began to roll backwards, taking the hatch opening back beneath the water. Lightfoot scrambled against the hull’s rotation, staying upright as it turned. Less than thirty feet away, the heads of Emerson’s two junior crewmen popped up unharmed. Now all eyes were on the area of water in front of the twisting sub.

  After several seconds, both Clay and Caesare surfaced and looked around. They spotted Emerson and Tay and pointed back to the sub. “Get the Triton!” they yelled.

  Everyone looked to the K-955 and spotted the small Triton, flopping back and forth, miraculously still clasped in the sub’s retractable claw. Lightfoot scrambled down to the tiny rover and unhooked it. He then pulled it behind him as he slid down the side of the K-955’s belly and into the water with the Triton in tow.

  All five men slowly made their way to the ship’s platform. Emerson and Tay reached over the side and pulled them up one by
one, grabbing Lightfoot and the Triton last and hefting it up over the heads of the others who all sat slouched forward, feet hanging over the end, trying to catch their breath. Emerson and Tay set the Triton down and joined the rest of the men, sitting down behind them.

  After a long silence, Emerson reached over and put his hand on Clay’s shoulder. He gave him a broad smile. “I was afraid we might just lose you two.”

  Clay looked at Emerson and returned the smile, his chest still heaving. His soaked hair hung down pasted against his forehead with water streaming down over his face. “The thought crossed our minds once or twice.”

  Emerson turned to his crewman. “Whitey, Ballmer, you guys alright?”

  Whitey, the larger of the two nodded his head. “Yep.” Next to him Ballmer merely held up his hand and gave a thumbs-up.

  Emerson turned to Caesare. “Caesare?”

  Caesare put his hands behind him and leaned back on them. “I’m okay.”

  Emerson took a deep breath and looked at the K-955 rolling back and forth in the rising swells. The sub had deep scrapes covering most of its side but remained on the surface still tethered to the Pathfinder by the large steel cable which was slack, yet still visible below the surface of the water. “Anyone else really starting to hate this place?”

  28

  Kathryn Lokke reached up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes before opening them. She looked at her watch and then peered around the tent. 5:00 a.m. and only Andrew’s sleeping bag was empty. Pierre and Tadri remained completely buried inside their own bags, neither leaving any skin exposed. Kathryn looked at the thin layer of ice which formed around the base of the triple layered, insulated tent. She thought about how even the most modern materials still could not keep you from freezing your butt off. At least you still felt like you were freezing it off. She was sure that in reality these advanced materials provided some serious protection in spite of the attention they paid to the cold that still managed to get through.

  Kathryn turned onto her back and closed her eyes for several minutes, trying to gauge her chances of getting back to sleep. Eventually, she frowned and turned back over. She grabbed her thick knit cap and put it back on her head then pulled the sides down over her ears. She quietly pulled herself out of her bag and sat up, putting her thick jacket on, followed by her insulated pants and Gore-Tex boots. She managed to unzip the vinyl zipper without waking Pierre or Tadri and poked her head out.

  The sun was low on the horizon which was white in every direction. Kathryn glanced at the second tent and could see an orange-blue glow from the small flickering flame inside. She pulled the large door flap open and stepped out, quickly re-zipping it from the outside. Even without the wind, the early morning air felt like it penetrated through her clothes immediately. She ran across the twenty feet of frozen ground and flung open the tent flap as fast as she could. Without a second’s delay, she jumped inside.

  Andrew looked up from his aluminum coffee mug. “Morning,” he said in a low voice.

  “Good morning.” She zipped the door closed and turned to sit down on one of the small lightweight collapsing chairs on the other side of the burner. She leaned in close to the flame which was keeping the coffee hot and the tent warm. She picked up a mug, scraped some ice out, and poured herself a cup.

  Kathryn really did not care for coffee but decided three days ago that she was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Taking a sip, she frowned at the bitterness and wrapped her hands around the warm metal cup. She looked absently around the tent. Most of their geological gear lined the far wall, including two laptops and a satellite phone.

  “Things are going well, eh?” asked Andrew, in this thick New Zealand accent.

  “Touch wood,” she said with a grin which was the Kiwi equivalent of the same American phrase. She looked around for a piece of wood to tap. Both looked around the tent and laughed quietly when they realized that everything around them was made with lightweight metals and fabrics.

  Andrew finished his coffee and reached down for the small Teflon coated frying pan. “So,” he said, “I know the official reason for you all being here. But it doesn’t seem to wash out.” He lit a match off the burner and used it to ignite a second. “If you already knew the extent of the Shelf slide, why come back with so many in such a mad rush?”

  Kathryn looked at him and then quietly glanced down at the flame in front of her. “Pride.” She kept gazing and then shrugged and looked back at him. “And a little arrogance, I guess.”

  He put the pan on the flame and dug into the food chest to retrieve some eggs and a strip of bacon. “Your pride or theirs?” he asked with a knowing grin.

  “Mine.”

  “Ah,” Andrew nodded. “So your pride and their arrogance, eh?”

  She smiled behind her cup. “How’d you know?”

  “Politics aren’t limited by country. We’ve got our own share of dramas down here.” He cracked open two eggs into the pan. “In fact, I got a mate working in one of our government branches. The things he tells me leave me in no hurry to get back.”

  “How did you wind up out here? I can’t tell if you’re a researcher or a soldier.”

  Andrew laughed. “Ah, I’m a soldier, but I do a little research too. Have to. Not to mention that conditions out here are rough enough that you tend to want to help out a bit just to get things wrapped up quicker.” The eggs started to bubble and he reached for the plastic spatula. “You want these over easy again?”

  “Please.” Kathryn watched him flip the eggs. He was not a bad cook, in fact, after factoring in the environment she decided he was an excellent cook. “Do you lead people out here a lot?”

  “Ah yeah,” he said dragging his words. “Few years ago, a team from China was out and they got lost in a snow storm. Only two of the five made it back and the ones that did were in pretty bad shape. We had offered to go out with them until they acclimated and all, but they refused. After that we started going out with everyone, no exceptions.”

  “Better safe than sorry,” She nodded. “I’m afraid to think of how we might fare if the weather turned bad on us.”

  “Nah,” he smiled again. “You’d be alright with us.” He flipped the eggs onto the small metal plate and slid the bacon on top. He handed it to Kathryn and reached back into the chest. “If we leave early, I’ll be able to make us all a big farewell breakfast.”

  Like Kathryn and her four person team, the rest of the teams also landed without incident, except for one failed snowmobile on the last drop. Thankfully, it was the three man team, and they were still able to manage with one machine. The rest of the project had so far gone fairly smoothly and with over half of their work done, they were expected to leave a full two days early. Something everyone was happy about.

  The teams had already placed most of the seismographs along the fault line. The new models were solar powered and connected via a direct satellite link. About the size of a large shoe box, they would be able to measure any changes on the Shelf up to fractions of an inch in any direction. The majority of work in the next two days would be primarily measurements and sample gathering.

  Kathryn turned around when she heard the unzipping of the tent door behind her. In stepped Tadri, who seemed to zip it back up even faster than she did. “Did I hear someone talking about breakfast?”

  “Yeah you sure did,” Andrew replied, “have a seat and I’ll fix ya right up.”

  “Bless you.” Tadri sat down next to Lokke and drained some coffee from the percolator. She let out a gentle groan with her first sip. “Coffee has never tasted so good in all my life.”

  Andrew smiled. “Yeah, the Antarctic will do that. Everything hot tastes better, and everything cold tastes a little worse.”

  “Must be why we all started crying over your stew last night,” Kathryn said and they all laughed.

  Tadri looked at Kathryn. “How many more of the SatQuake units do we have to place?”

  “Just three more. The rest of the tr
ip should be mostly data collection.”

  “Any problems with the other teams?” Tadri had turned in early the night before, before Kathryn had made her rounds checking in with the other teams over satellite phone.

  Kathryn shook her head. “Not really. A few hardware units that don’t seem to want to work, couple of small injuries from tripping, and a lot of complaints about the food.” She smiled at Andrew waiting for a reaction.

  “Heeey,” he said, as he handed a plate of eggs to Tadri. “Can I help it if the other gents can’t cook like me?”

  “All in all, it’s been pretty smooth.” Kathryn continued. “We really lucked out with this weather and everyone is eager to leave early.”

  “You know,” Tadri said to Kathryn. “There were a lot of unhappy people when you told us what we were going to be doing. A lot of people complaining that this was just a political axe to grind for you. But I think this has been good for everyone. Most of us had not just gotten soft, but I think some of our skills had gotten a little rusty too. I know a lot of people are probably still pissing and moaning on the outside, but I think everyone will be better for this.”

  “Thank you.” Kathryn gave a gentle raise of her eyebrows. “To be honest, I thought I was going to get a wave of resignations over this.”

  Tadri winked. “Well, you might still get a few.”

  “Just hope they are the right ones,” Andrew grinned.

  Kathryn and Tadri looked at each other as if Andrew somehow knew who the problem members of the department were. They both burst out laughing.

  Kathryn’s four person group was out on the ridgeline by 7:00 a.m. Two hours later, Pierre was positioning one of the seismographs while Kathryn and Tadri measured the width, depth, and horizontal shift of the fissure caused by the quake. Andrew walked ahead examining the ground for signs of cracks or weakness in the ice. A few falls from the other teams had resulted in only minor injuries, but a collapse under foot could easily result in something much worse, ranging from a broken ankle or compound fracture to a cave in from which it would take too long to get someone out, if at all. Ironically the vast majority of deaths in the remote regions of the Antarctic were caused by smaller injuries that prevented the victims from getting out of the elements in time. This was a lesson that all of the guides explained to Kathryn’s people on the first day and repeated frequently.