Iceapelago

by Peter Brennan

  High above, PD1 captured the entire episode on camera. The graphic video of the scene was relayed on the ORM’s monitors.

  ‘Oh my God. My Simon is gone.’ Maria fell sobbing into her sister’s arms.

  Neither she, nor the crew at the ORM, had any time to grieve.

  Events moved rapidly.

  They didn’t need the drone’s video to show them what was happening beneath them in the National Park. Within an hour, a huge and rapidly expanding plume of ash and poisonous gases rose skywards and soon blotted out the sun.

  What had been a small almost dormant crater was transformed. The cauldron of Pico Bejenado widened, deepened and emitted streams of molten lava that flowed into the rivulets and streams of the National Park. Red hot lava bombs were jettisoned into the sky like grapeshot from a large shotgun. The scale and violence of the eruption intensified. The forest and undergrowth at the base of the National Park was on fire.

  The earthquakes also became more frequent and more severe by the hour. They shook the ORM and the entire northern part of the island to its core. In the face of a rapidly deteriorating situation, the federal police finally instructed the Guardia Civil to mobilise and assist the population of the most exposed towns and villages along the northern shoreline. They were told to evacuate everyone down the coastline to relative safety south of La Palma.

  Marco Lesle could not be contacted.

  And all the while the volcanic explosions at Pico Bejenado went live on global television. The footage from PD1 was streamed around the world. Social media channels were full of comments about the possible implications of the event. The death of Mark Doyle and the Rodriquez brothers got barely a mention.

  Black Bush

  The following evening, Lars reviewed the events at the Summit Station with Benny and Sean over dinner. Sean had had the good sense to bring a bottle of Black Bush Irish whiskey. He poured a large measure into the teacups that served as whiskey glasses. The three men sipped and gasped as the fiery liquid hit the target. Sean was old school and didn’t believe in adding water to whiskey.

  Lars broke their long contemplative silence. ‘I feel so guilty that we didn’t do a proper ground site surveillance at site ZX3. It’s my fault that the Twin Otter and everyone on board was lost.’

  ‘We all feel horrible,’ said Benny. ‘Wasn’t this landing area used a few weeks ago without any problems?’

  ‘It was, but we should have done a quick drone site survey when we got feedback from all the teams of the increasingly slushy texture of the surface snow.’

  ‘That was Alice’s call. ZX3 was her responsibility. She wouldn’t deny it, if she were here.’ Benny took no pleasure in stating the obvious.

  Perhaps understandably, Lars was full of remorse and anguish. He was clearly in a black mood and detached from the conversation.

  ‘On a positive note,’ chipped in Sean, ‘the data you’re getting is transformative. When this experiment ends – when all the surviving golf balls enter the Greenland Sea – it will be possible to provide a far more accurate estimate about the annual loss of water from the Greenland Ice Sheet and the locations at most risk. For example, at site ZX1 to the west the golf balls didn’t descend any further than four hundred metres. On the other hand, all the golf balls heading toward the east coast of Greenland are expected to reach the edge of the glaciers and in some cases may reach the sea. From what we’ve seen, the current forecasts and perceived wisdom about the extent of the melting are off the mark to a considerable degree.’

  ‘Yes, Sean, we need to look at the overall outcome of Project Masters,’ Benny agreed. ‘Early days I know, but as Sean’s golf ball technology has worked it might be worth placing an order for a much wider deployment over the entire surface of the Greenland Ice Sheet in time for next season’s weather window.’

  ‘Yeh, that should be doable,’ confirmed Sean. He had already alerted the Galway office. The team were more than willing to do the business. They didn’t need any persuasion as they were well aware of the attention they were receiving because of increasing world-wide coverage of Project Masters. Sean’s interview from the Summit Station with CNN and BBC World had gone global. Because the Norwegian Government didn’t wish to be at the centre of the publicity Sean was asked to lead with the media. His only condition was that he could wear his Galway County jersey. Local Irish media had done interviews in the Galway office. The staff felt like stars, not least because Sean credited the team’s effort in all his appearances. There was an immediate and positive side effect as online orders for the trackable ‘traditional’ golf balls rose sharply. It was win-win-win for Sean and his business.

  Lars took another large sip of the whiskey. Alice’s death lay heavy on his shoulders. He struggled to join the conversation, but he did.

  ‘I agree in principle that we should start planning for next year. But we’ll need to produce a summary of our findings before a decision of that magnitude can be taken. If the Greenland ice-melt is pouring into the seas all around the eastern and western shores of Greenland, it is only a matter of time before this will impact on the Gulf Stream. The prospect of sea ice extending as far south as the British Isles will catch a lot of attention.’

  ‘The word is out among the climate science community according to my well-informed sources,’ said Benny.

  ‘What the story?’ asked Lars.

  ‘Social media is full of the events at the Summit Station over the past few days. There is a lot of “I-told-you-so” from some of the more opinionated commentators.’

  ‘I’ve no time for armchair climate commentators.’ Lars was getting more agitated as his grief deepened.

  ‘Whatever our experiences, we are not the only community affected by natural events,’ said Benny.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Lars.

  ‘Have you not been watching TV?’ replied Benny.

  ‘No. I’ve had other matters on my mind, in case you haven’t noticed.’ Lars was in no mood for small talk.

  ‘There has been a huge volcanic eruption on the island of La Palma. Early reports suggest there have been many fatalities,’ said Benny.

  ‘Mother Nature must be really angry with us,’ said Lars. Alice’s death had put him in an uncharacteristically philosophical frame of mind.

  Benny, while sensitive to his friend’s feelings, continued on a different line of conversation.

  ‘There have been abnormally warm weather conditions with higher than average air pressure over the summer months across the Baffin Sea. The number of melt days is at a record high as a consequence, increasing the impact of summer melt across Greenland beyond all previous readings. The fact that a zone of high pressure has been positioned much further south in the mid-Atlantic during most of the summer has raised awareness about the difference between weather and climate. What is most important is the awareness we’ve raised about the potential collapse of the Gulf Stream. Governments are being asked for explanations from their concerned citizens.’

  Lars snapped momentarily out of his stasis.

  ‘I was told by one of our American researchers over a morning coffee that the outlet glaciers we saw last week at Jacobshavn Glacier are flowing at a rate of over fifty metres a day. This is a record. It’s as remarkable as it is scary. They are actively monitoring one iceberg that’s ten thousand square metres in surface area that contains gigatons of ice. If it splits …. It’s so large that it will float into the North Atlantic shipping channels west of Labrador within two months. Titanics beware! How this giant chunk of ice and snow, and hundreds like it across the North and South Poles, will disappear is the overwhelming uncertainty of the world of climate science.’

  Lars walked around the room slowly. He needed to be on the move. His mood was getting better as he began to accept that he was not to blame for what was truly an accident, not of his making.

  ‘Earlier I was contacted by m
y contacts in NASA who are more than impressed with the preliminary results. We’ve been promised satellite support next summer. In the meantime, we’ll try and integrate our tracking results with their Operation IceBridge programme, which is using highly sensitive ice penetrating radar sounding, gravimeter and laser profiling software to map the base of the entire Greenland Ice Sheet. Our data has increased their concerns that the ice-melt is affecting the stability of parts of the base of the ice sheet close to the east coast.’

  ‘I assume the satellite we had use of is back monitoring Russian and North Korean missiles?’ asked Sean.

  ‘Of course. Aren’t we lucky there was no attack last week! Can you imagine the embarrassment of the Pentagon if they had to tell their President their military assets were checking golf balls and not inter-continental ballistic missiles,’ said Sean.

  Benny’s phone rang. It was an unknown number. Normally he never took a call from a ‘User ID Unknown’. He made an exception given the situation.

  ‘Who is that please?’

  ‘Hi.’

  Lars and Sean watched as Benny frowned and smiled. Obviously, his caller was making an impression.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We will be on hand to join the conference call tomorrow with the other prime ministers.’

  The call continued for a few more minutes. Benny was in listening mode.

  ‘Thank you, Prime Minister.’

  Lars looked at Sean with a sense of pride once he realised who was on the line.

  ‘Sure, I will brief you personally on my return.’

  ‘I should be in Oslo next week. I will pass your appreciation to the entire team. It was after all a team effort. Goodnight Prime Minister.’

  Benny placed his iPhone on the table. ‘You would never guess who that was?’

  ‘The woman who gave you all the resources we needed?’ said Sean cheekily.

  ‘And a promise to provide on-going funding. The penny, cent, krona whatever has finally dropped in political circles.’

  At the mention of funding Sean decided to pick his moment. He had avoided any discussion of the dirty subject of money until now. ‘Would it be timely for me to give you my invoice?’

  ‘Sean, we should not put a price on your contribution, but of course all your costs will be met, said Lars. ‘I expect you to add a good mark-up when you quote us for next year’s supply. The Norwegians can afford it.’

  ‘Given the huge reaction to Sean’s interviews, the Prime Minister told me she is going to convene a summit of the leaders of the North Atlantic nations next month. She wants a more coordinated approach to resourcing the climate scientists, meteorologists and geologists working across Greenland on dozens of independent research programmes. She wants the Polar Space Task Group to up their game. Norway, for one, wants to know not if but when the Greenland ice-melt will cause critical disruption to the warming influence of the Gulf Stream. The key challenge in the light of Project Masters is to get a full understanding of the pace of the ice melt across the entirety of the Greenland Ice Sheet.’

  There was a condition.

  ‘Sean, she wants you to be the keynote presenter.’

  ‘You can’t be serious?’

  ‘It is a jacket and tie event. No Galway supporter jerseys will be allowed on the podium.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that. Sláinte lads. It was a pleasure doing business with you.’

  ‘Sean, I hope your country recognises the massive difference your interest in golf has played in the world of climate science. You are a real golf professional!’

  ‘Judging by our government’s track record in reducing carbon emissions, I very much doubt it. No matter. What’s important is that you guys continue the good work.’

  ‘What are your plans Sean?’ asked Lars.

  ‘I’m going to bed. I’m on a flight in the morning back to Ireland via Reykjavik. By the way, when you’re on the call to Dublin in the morning say ‘hello’ to the Taoiseach for me! I’ll call you next week for a catch-up. Goodnight.’

  Sean left Lars and Benny to reflect in silence. The bottle of Black Bush whiskey was empty. It had served a medicinal purpose. They had to cope with the shock of the loss of lives, while at the same time cope with the natural elation at their unexpected success.

  ‘We also need a good night’s sleep after what has been a momentous few days,’ said Lars. ‘Let’s gather after breakfast to find out if any of Sean’s circular friends were retrieved from the salty sea.’

  They were. While many were never recovered, the golf balls provided unprecedented data about the innards of the ice sheet.

  Merrion Street

  Unnoticed, the Mercedes EQ 350 glided through the open gate at Government Buildings on Merrion Street in Dublin. No outriders. No pennants flying. The only tell-tale sign was the CD plates. The limousine parked at the side entrance opposite the four-column Edwardian portico, as had three others in the preceding twenty minutes.

  The driver moved to open the door for his passenger, the Norwegian Prime Minister. The Irish Prime Minister walked over to greet her visitor.

  There was no media present. This meeting was a ‘below the radar’ deniable event planned with great secrecy in less than twenty-four hours. The fact that the meeting was taking place early on a Saturday morning allowed the participants to access the complex in small groups without drawing attention to themselves.

  ‘Taoiseach, thank you for making the arrangements at such short notice. It is always a pleasure to visit Ireland, but I wish it were under better circumstances.’

  She had the phonetic pronunciation of Ireland’s Prime Minister, the ‘Teeshock’, well- rehearsed.

  ‘Prime Minister, you are most welcome. The others have arrived so we can start soon.’

  The two women walked purposefully up the ceremonial staircase. They moved along the carpeted corridor to the left with their advisors in close proximity.

  ‘We’re here,’ said the Taoiseach’s Chief of Staff as he opened the door of the Sycamore Room. The two politicians entered. The room was full, despite the fact that only those who had a need to know, or a necessary contribution, were in attendance. The dress was casual: after all it was a Saturday.

  ‘Ah, Michelle, nice to see you again.’ The Norwegian Prime Minister greeted her Danish counterpart with three carefully placed kisses to her cheeks.

  At the same time, the Taoiseach motioned the British Prime Minister to his seat after the customary greetings were complete.

  ‘Shall we get started?’

  It had been agreed in advance she would chair the discussions. She was eager, as they all were, to get the briefing underway. ‘This is where I normally meet and greet our State visitors but today, as you can see, the Sycamore Room has been transformed into an incident centre. If I may, I will ask my Chief of Staff to explain what we hope to do over the next few hours.’

  He didn’t need to add too many explanations as the four wide screen monitors said it all and the various prime ministers had been well briefed by their teams.

  The monitors were labelled ‘Summit Station’, ‘ORM’, ‘Woods Hole’ and ‘RV Celtic Explorer’.

  ‘We all know why we’re here. There have been a series of apparently disconnected natural events that could, in a worse-case scenario, have serious implications for our peoples. At the outset I want to thank the Norwegian Government for funding some essential research in Greenland.’

  ‘Delighted to assist,’ replied the Norwegian Prime Minister.

  ‘I suggest we start with the Summit Station.’

  The conference call got underway. The assembled leaders, along with observers from the US and Spain, were linked live by way of secure satellite communications to the four research centres.

  ‘Professor Brun, can you please brief us about your work? Before you start, on beh
alf of all of us here we would like to express our condolences to all at the Summit Station for the loss of your colleagues. Very sad.’

  All eyes turned to the screen designated ‘Summit Station’.

  ‘Thank you. Losing colleagues and close friends in such circumstances has us all numb. But we need to finish our work. I can give you a heads up on the presentation I’m working on for delivery at the Polar Space Task Force summit that the Norwegian Prime Minister will chair a few weeks hence. All thanks to the foresight of my home country I should add.’

  Like the other non-political participants, Lars Brun had been given less than a day’s notice to join what he was told was going to be a de-briefing session with the aim of the mutual sharing of intelligence across a number of areas of research. Just before he joined the conference call, he was told its true nature: a group of very concerned Prime Ministers needed guidance about the inherent risks of rapidly emerging findings in what appeared, at first sight, to be quite separate natural phenomena.

  ‘The Greenland Ice Sheet is at an advanced stage of collapse at its maritime fringes, even those high within the Arctic Circle. We’ve known that for a year or two but what Project Masters has revealed is that the core of the Greenland Ice Sheet is hollowing out at a much faster pace than anyone had anticipated. Some areas have already imploded exposing vast lakes below the surface. The movement of large sections of the glaciers has caused serious structural vibrations, not unlike an earthquake. If this continues, I anticipate a domino effect leading to a major structural disintegration of significant parts the Greenland Ice Sheet. If that happens a tipping point could be reached.’

  ‘Could I stop you Professor, please,’ the British Prime Minister interrupted. ‘What are you saying? We need a better appreciation of the likely timelines.’

  He was clearly agitated, judging by his fidgeting. He had a habit of combing his thick curly blond hair with both his hands when he was getting stressed. Billy van Os whispered into his ear.

  ‘And if I could ask a supplementary question,’ said the Prime Minister. ‘What are the consequences for the British Isles, if I could be forgiven for including Ireland in that strictly geographical description?’