Iceapelago

by Peter Brennan

  Since the first multi-copter was launched in 2010, military and commercial drones had developed beyond everyone’s initial expectations. Drones now had an impressive array of optional extras that could be attached to their basic airframe. The Norwegian drones were eight rotor MD4-6000 series models and of military standard. Powered by a Li-Pod lithium battery, they could stay in the air for four hours in sub-zero conditions. They were capable of handling a payload of nearly twenty kilos. The drones had a motorised three axel gimbal supporting an advanced LUMIX GH8 DSLR cinema-grade digital camera. The operator was able to zoom the lens and take video as well as still shots.

  A unique feature of the MD4-6000 series was the option to fly the machine using Wi-Fi enabled virtual reality goggles linked to a front-facing internal camera. The pilot could steer his drone visually as if on board, while observing the terrain below and the prevailing weather. Heavy rain or snow would render the drone useless.

  The operators at the Summit Station launched the computer tracking programme on their PCs. Once the drones were powered up, and using the visual features of the pilots’ goggles, they had the option of remote flying the drones independently from the on-the-ground pilots. The drone pilots and the base operators confirmed that all systems were in order and the drones were ready to fly.

  The pilots placed the golf balls in a bucket box that was designed to open once a remote signal was sent. The Norwegians had built a bucket box that could hold a payload of ten kilograms, or some two hundred golf balls. Sean had told them that the rules of golf required a golf ball to be no more than 46 grams. Sean’s adaptation was a third of that weight. The Summit Station PCs picked up the golf balls’ unique signals using the software programme they had installed earlier.

  Speaking into his satellite phone, Lars gave the order to start the test.

  As if by magic, the two drones rose silently into the air. They hovered some ten metres apart about two hundred metres up. One headed east, in the general direction of the Big Crevasse, while the other flew south to site ZX5.

  The Big Room was packed as the PCs showed the track of the golf balls as they rose in the air in the drones’ buckets. As remarkable was the video feed from the drones’ cameras of dark ridges of ribboned ice spread out as far as the eye could see.

  After two minutes, when the drones were over a kilometre away, Lars called out. ‘Pilot of the drone going to site ZX5 please stall, hover and zoom in so we can get a better look at ground conditions. Over. Please acknowledge.’

  ‘Did you see something,’ asked Alice.

  ‘Wait and see.’

  ‘Roger, Lars,’ said the drone pilot. He did what he was told. Everyone stared at the TV screen as the images appeared crystal clear. The ice surface seemed to resemble a series of ripples like sand dunes buffeted by the wind.

  ‘Zoom in as far as is possible.’ Lars feared that he had spotted a potential problem.

  The emerging image showed that beneath the surface there was a thin layer of slushy meltwater.

  ‘Shit,’ said Lars. Not known for bad language, Lars’ loud comment turned everyone’s head. ‘This is the first time we’ve witnessed surface ice melt at this altitude. It may be an isolated incident. What do you think Alice?’

  ‘This should not be a problem. The Humvees will plough their way through soft snow as will the ski-cats. The huskies have no preference for ground conditions. I don’t want to over-simplify matters, but if we’re careful and observe the terrain to spot slushy areas, the worst situation is that deployment might take a bit longer than we’ve planned for.’

  ‘I go along with your assessment, but everyone should be mindful that ice conditions have clearly degenerated,’ said Lars.

  Soon after that distraction the drones were over the chosen sites.

  ‘Drop when you are ready,’ instructed Lars.

  The drone operators duly obliged. The red track line fell sharply as the bucket boxes were opened. At the Big Crevasse, once in the water, the golf balls dropped sharply accelerating at twenty kilometres an hour in an easterly direction. What startled everyone was a significant and sudden boost in speed as the golf balls, all close to each other, sank nearly five hundred metres within the space of thirty minutes through a series of steep rapids and then slowed down to a stall before progressing in a north-north-west direction at a much slower pace of four to five kilometres an hour. While the descent at the second site was less dramatic, the tracking system worked as programmed. Dotted red lines showed the line of progress as the balls twisted and turned deep below the ice sheet.

  ‘They work!’ Sean was more than elated to see his invention in action.

  ‘They do indeed. It was prudent to do a small test before we go to full delivery. I can’t wait to see the camera feature,’ replied Lars.

  The drone pilots confirmed that their high-tech military flyers had no issues in deploying the golf balls from the bucket mechanism. Their only concern was what might happen in poor visibility.

  ‘We’re all set. Best of luck to everyone. Once everyone is on site and on my signal, we’ll deploy at all five sites at midday the day after tomorrow.’

  PLU

  The PLU’s first dive programme meeting started at 7 a.m. and lasted the best part of four hours. Chaired by Gilmore, the Chief Scientist, and attended by the PLU’s crew, the Diving Operations Control Manager, a medley of scientists, and Vinnie Crowley every detail was presented, discussed and stress tested. The most immediate issue was the state of the sea bottom transponder network deployed overnight that would pin-point the final target destination.

  Later, on deck, a separate team prepared the PLU for the first dive. The checklist was long. However, as they had a lot of experience, the dive crew visitors went through their checks as a matter of routine. Iron pellets were poured into linen bags and loaded into special compartments on the side of the manned submersible. Five of these ballast bags were secured to the sides of the vessel. The instruments in the PLU Shack, compressed into a room half the size of a box container, were also tested.

  Weather conditions were deteriorating as the deck crew completed the pre-dive preparations. They were at the end of the long night shift. A three-metre swell was manageable and within safety limits. The PLU was securely anchored on deck and linked to a heavy-duty Triplex crane that would put the vessel into the water.

  Because O’Farrell and Gallery had not been in a manned submersible before, they had had to go through intensive training in the simulator, based at the Irish Marine Institute, in the days before they boarded the RV Celtic Explorer. It was just as well they didn’t suffer from claustrophobia. Diving in a manned submersible wasn’t part of their job spec.

  They were in the capable hands of Mike Smith, the PLU’s pilot. As a former Woods Hole staffer, he had over twelve years’ experience of navigating and manoeuvring the most expensive bubble on earth, as he called it. Every dial, lever, button and stick was handled with skill and dexterity. The controls were an extension of his own arms.

  Before they went out on deck the three crew members were weighed. Gallery’s extended tummy was more than compensated by O’Farrell’s slight figure. A good balance. A calculation was then made as regards the required level of buoyancy needed.

  As the PLU’s crew were kitted out with their jumpsuits, woolly hats and outer layers, the bridge of the RV Celtic Explorer was a hive of activity. The ship was manoeuvered to keep it aligned to the sea bottom transponder network. The transponder beacons mounted on acoustic devices sent signals of different frequencies to the submersible. Estimates were made of the surface and bottom currents as this would require adjustments to be made to the angle and direction of the PLU’s descent.

  Once the PLU was ready, the three-person crew walked out on the rear deck of a rolling ship a bit unsteady on their feet. They were the centre of attention as a large crowd had gathered at the upper guard rails to witness t
he first launch of a manned submersible from the RV Celtic Explorer.

  Smith beckoned to O’Farrell. ‘Maeve, you will need to take the seat at the rear that’s located behind me. After you climb up to the opening step onto the door casing make sure you grip the handle that will allow you swing into position. As you know from the simulator we used in Galway, your monitors are to your left side as is your camera. No need for seat belts. I don’t expect we’ll be meeting much traffic where we’re going.’

  Nervously and awkwardly, O’Farrell climbed the curved steps to the top of the PLU. Keeping a tight grip on the rails, she installed herself into position in what was going to be home for the next few hours. She felt like a stuffed doll dressed as she was in a heavy jumpsuit to take account of the sharp fall in the submersible’s ambient temperature as they descended.

  Gallery did likewise, taking a position to Smith’s left. ‘It sure is a bit cramped, barely room to swing a cat.’

  ‘Make room for a sea dog,’ said Smith as he effortlessly climbed the ladder and sat on the edge of the hatch. He verified the seal and cleaned the grooves around the hatch with a clean rag to ensure the closure was airtight. He slipped into the cockpit and sat in front of the main control panel. He closed the hatch and secured it in an instant. The squishing sound confirmed an airtight seal had been achieved.

  He turned on the PLU’s communications system. The radio went live immediately.

  ‘All safely interred, Eoin,’ said Smith.

  ‘Roger that Mike,’ said Eoin O’Neill, whose job was to winch them off the ship. ‘Let me know when you are ready.’

  ‘Let’s go through the last-minute checks before we get started,’ Smith ordered, as he assumed the role of captain of his mini-ship.

  ‘Paul, can we go through the final pre-op checklist, please?’

  Working under the supervision of NOAA technicians, Paul McCrossan sat, legs akimbo, in the PLU Shack in front of what looked like the controls of a Dreamliner aircraft. The room contained the controls needed to monitor the PLU, which – unlike the ROV – had no tether as it operated independently using six high-capacity lithium batteries.

  He and Mike Smith systematically checked battery levels, the sonar and side-sonar equipment, oxygen controls, the radio communications links, and the PLU’s main and secondary grabbers. All the remote cameras and the 4K high definition video equipment were also checked and in order. The recently installed chemistry diagnostic kit was also approved for deployment. A series of control switches were activated. The main monitors at the centre of the cockpit panel lit up.

  O’Farrell and Gallery sat in silence as the minutes went by while the safety and operational checks were completed.

  McCrossan also linked the PLU’s newly installed video and sound communications to the Skynet 6 satellite that had been assigned to the project by the British Government. Everything that was being said, seen and done would be visible to monitoring teams in the UK and the US. The team in the world’s first underwater volcano research centre, the Hawaiian Underwater Geo-Observatory, was also on alert to give their expert opinion on whatever PLU found.

  ‘OK, Mike, we’re nearly ready to go. We just have to re-confirm the plot coordinates to the seabed,’ said McCrossan.

  ‘Roger that, Paul. I’ve these pre-programmed. In any event, I expect that we’ll be moving about quite a bit along the edge of the target area.’

  Smith took a deep breath. ‘Maeve, Andy, are you all set?’

  His crew nodded.

  ‘Good, let’s go then. Eoin, please winch us to the starting position at the stern of the ship.’

  ‘Roger.’

  The creaking of the main Triplex ‘A’ frame could be heard inside the cockpit as the PLU was lifted slowly off the deck and held steady by members of the deck crew. Expertly, the PLU was swung over the stern of the stationary ship and suspended briefly just above the water. Once it steadied, the winch lowered the PLU into the Atlantic. It was like putting a baby into a bath. The PLU’s crew could hear the clips securing the vessel disengage. As soon as it floated the impact of the moderate swell could be felt inside. O’Farrell and Gallery hoped they would not be seasick.

  ‘Mike, you are safely disconnected,’ said McCrossan. ‘Turn on the electric motor and take charge of the joy sticks. We’ll let you descend in peace. Get in touch when you are above the designated position. Have a good dive.’

  The scuba-diver released the submersible’s umbilical cord from the ‘A’ frame, tapped the window, and gave a thumbs up sign. Smith reciprocated the signal. He turned on the electric motors, and the oxygen then clicked the switch for the reading and ambient lights.

  ‘Permission to dive captain?’ asked Smith.

  ‘Roger that,’ said Killen who had been observing the preparations with a sense of disbelief. Sitting on his seat on the bridge, he felt a degree of pride in being in charge of the first successful deployment of a manned submersible from the RV Celtic Explorer.

  Smith expertly opened the valves to let water enter the ballast tanks. The PLU disappeared under the surface without a sound. It sank like a stone at a speed of thirty metres a second and in so doing rotated slowly like a spinning top. At a hundred and fifty metres below the surface, the last of the sunlight disappeared and the types of sea creatures that were visible also changed. PLU passed through a dense cloud of plankton, but very soon marine life was less noticeable in the chilling darkness. To save battery power he kept the arc lamps at low levels.

  As he manoeuvred the craft downwards at an angle of about thirty degrees, Mike got a feeling his passengers, while pre-eminent scientists, were nervous so he started to talk out aloud.

  ‘What persuaded you to study volcanoes Maeve?’ asked Smith as they began their two-hour long dive.

  O’Farrell was eager to talk. This was the distraction she needed. Her stomach had started to tense up. ‘When I was sixteen, I was on a cruise holiday with my parents that took us to Naples. While they took it easy walking the streets and eating pizzas, I went on an escorted tour of the neighbouring towns of Pompeii and Herculaneum. I was fascinated by the guide’s matter-of-fact account of one of Europe’s most dramatic human tragedies.’

  ‘The eruption of Vesuvius?’ asked Smith.

  ‘Yes, I was fascinated by the story of how in August 79 CE, all but one of the population of thousands in the wealthy Roman town of Herculaneum were incinerated by a violent blast of volcanic gases and ash that surged down the mountain as the fringes of the volcano collapsed. The lucky survivor was incarcerated in a cell under the town’s prison and he lived to tell the tale. The Roman admiral Pliny the Elder was offshore on a rowing galley and he wrote a graphic account of the destruction of Pompeii, which he witnessed. The year after that holiday I persuaded my parents to holiday in the Bay of Capri area so that I could spend my time climbing and observing Vesuvius. At university I did a science degree and specialised in predictive volcanic analytics.’

  ‘In your expert opinion, what will you be predicting?’ asked Smith as he looked over his shoulder and caught Maeve’s eye.

  ‘Far too early to say. That said, if there are tell-tale signs, we might be able to provide alerts of potential activity in good time. What I have in mind is the placing of an array of sea floor sensors along the length of the area we’re starting to investigate. There are similar sensors off the shores of Japan for instance, and at various locations in the Mediterranean.’

  ‘But who will we be warning?’ Smith was at this stage seeing the bigger picture.

  ‘The countries that will be most affected by the resultant tsunamis,’ concluded O’Farrell in a matter of fact voice.

  That silenced everyone, including the many listeners to the PLU’s internal conversations.

  The PLU continued its downwards track without a sound. Its battery powered thrusters were designed to cause minimal damage to marine life. Without w
arning there was a short but very loud ‘bang’. O’Farrell and Gallery simultaneously gasped and jumped out of their seats.

  Before his passengers could ask a question, Smith explained, ‘At around a thousand metres below the surface that bang indicates that outside pressure is compressing the sphere of the submersible.’

  Time for more chat to distract attention, thought Smith.

  He started to talk to himself. ‘Why do we have water? One theory is that water condensed from the primeval atmosphere. Only earth has water in all three states: solid, liquid and gas. Some 2.5% is fresh water with 99% of that water found in ice and groundwater. A small amount is stored in the atmosphere in the form of vapour. Oceans cover over seventy percent of the surface of the earth, which to be honest as a planet should really be called ‘Ocean’. Because it contains salts and minerals, seawater only freezes at minus four degrees Celsius. As the salinity of water increases, the freezing point lowers. Ocean water increases in density as it cools and sinks. The waters of the oceans contain 321 million cubic miles by volume. That’s a lot. The circulation of the world’s water is controlled by a mixture of gravity, friction and inertia. Winds push water, ice and water vapour due to friction. Water vapour, fresh water and hot water rises. Ice floats. Fascinating isn’t it?’

  ‘Interesting,’ said a very disinterested and disengaged Gallery.

  Smith continued with his information dump although he knew he was rambling and annoying his fellow passengers, it was distracting them from their nerves. ‘Did you know that we’ve the equivalent of satnav on board? Certain parts of the world’s oceans, including much of the North Atlantic, have been surveyed by side-scan sonar. It may not be as good as Google Maps, but as soon as we’re near the seabed I will be able to drive PLU along a predetermined route. Examining the Atlantic’s volcanic rim started back in the 1970s with the French-American Mid-Ocean Undersea Study, or FAMOUS as it was called. More recently, the civilian version of the US Navy’s Sound Surveillance System, or SOSUS, consists of a wide network of hydrophone arrays sited on continental slopes and seamounts that have the ability not just to detect submarines and whales but also volcanic eruptions.’