CHAPTER FOUR

“No contact,” Suzanne said in response to Donald’s question whether the sonar echo sounder showed any unexpected obstacles beneath the Oceanus. Even though they were bobbing around in open ocean, part of the predive check was to make sure no other submarine craft had surreptitiously moved under them.

Donald took the VHF radio mike and established contact with Larry Nelson in the diving van. “We’re clear of the ship. Oxygen is on, scrubbers are on, hatch is closed, underwater phone is on, grounds are normal, and the echo sounder is clear. Request permission to dive.”

“Is your tracking beacon activated?” Larry’s voice questioned over the radio.

“That’s affirmative,” Donald said.

“You have permission to dive,” Larry said with a small amount of static. “Depth to the well head is nine hundred ninety-four feet. Have a nice dive.”

“Roger!” Donald said.

Donald was about to hang up the mike when Larry added, “The DDC is nearing depth so the bell will be starting down ASAP. I’d estimate the divers will be at the site in half an hour.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Donald said. “Over and out.” He hung up the mike. Then to his fellow submariners he added, “Dive! Dive! Vent the main ballast tanks!”

Suzanne leaned forward and threw a switch. “Venting the ballast tanks,” she repeated so there was no chance for misunderstanding. Donald made an entry on his clipboard.

There was a sound like a shower in a neighboring room as the cold Atlantic water rushed into the Oceanus ’s ballast tanks. Within moments the craft’s buoyancy plummeted, and once negative she silently slipped beneath the surface.

For the next few minutes both Donald and Suzanne were totally occupied, making sure all systems were still operating normally. Their conversation was restricted to operational jargon. In a rapid fashion they went through most of the predive checklist for the second time while the submersible’s descent accelerated to a terminal velocity of a hundred feet per minute.

Perry occupied his time by looking out the view port. The color went from its initial greenish blue to rapidly advancing indigo. In five minutes all he could see was a blue glow when he looked upward. Downward it was dark purple fading into blackness. In stark contrast, the interior of the Oceanus was bathed in a cool electronic luminosity from the myriad monitors and readout devices.

“I believe we’re a little front heavy,” Suzanne said once all the electronic equipment had been checked.

“I agree,” Donald said. “Go ahead and compensate for Mr. Bergman!”

Suzanne threw another switch. A whirring noise could be heard.

Perry leaned forward between the two pilots. “What do you mean, ‘compensate’ for me?” His voice sounded funny even to himself. He swallowed to relieve a dry throat.

“We have a variable ballast system,” Suzanne explained. “It’s filled with oil, and I’m pumping some of it aft to make up for your weight forward of the center of gravity.”

“Oh!” Perry said simply. He leaned back. As an engineer he understood the physics. He was also relieved they weren’t referring to his timidity, which his self-consciousness had irrationally suggested.

Suzanne turned the variable ballast pump off when she was satisfied with the boat’s trim. Then she turned around to face Perry. She was eager to make his dive to the seamount as positive as possible. Once they were back on ship, she hoped to present him with a case for conducting purely exploratory dives on the guyot. At the moment, the only time she got down there was to change the drill bit. She’d had no luck persuading Mark Davidson of the value of research-inspired dives.

Adding to Suzanne’s anxiety was the widespread rumor that the drilling operation would be scrapped because of technical problems. Sea Mount Olympus would be abandoned before she could get a closer look. That was the last thing she wanted, and not only because of her professional interests. Just before leaving on the current project, she had what she hoped was the final breakup of an unhealthy, volatile relationship with an aspiring actor. At the moment returning to L.A. was the last thing she wanted to do. Perry Bergman’s sudden appearance on-site was serendipitous. She could take her case right to the top.

“Comfortable?” Suzanne asked.

“I’ve never been more comfortable in my life,” Perry averred.

Suzanne smiled despite the obvious sarcasm in Perry’s response. The situation was not looking good. The Benthic Marine president was still tense as evidenced by his gripping the arms of his seat as if he were about to leap out of it. The books that she’d made the effort to bring were lying unopened on the floor grate.

For a moment Suzanne studied the taut president whose eyes looked everywhere but into hers. What she could not tell was whether Perry’s anxiety was from apprehension of being in the submersible or just a reflection of his basic personality. Even on her first meeting with the man six months ago, she had found him a mildly eccentric, vain, and nervous guy. He was obviously not her type in addition to being short enough for her to look directly in the eye in her tennis shoes. Yet despite having little in common with him especially since he was an engineer-cum-entrepreneur and she a scientist, she trusted that he’d be receptive to her arguments. After all, he’d already responded positively to her request to bring the Benthic Explorer back to Sea Mount Olympus even if it was only to drill into the supposed magma chamber.

Sea Mount Olympus had been Suzanne’s main preoccupation for almost a year, since she’d stumbled on its existence by switching on the side-scan sonar on the Benthic Explorer out of boredom when the ship was heading back to port. Initially, her curiosity only involved her inability to explain why such a massive, apparently extinct volcano had not been detected by Geosat. But now, after making four dives in the submersible, she was equally fascinated by the geological formations on its flat crown, especially since she’d only been afforded the opportunity to explore in the immediate vicinity of the well head. But then the most intriguing fact emerged when she took it on herself to date the rock that had been brought up with the broken drill bit.

To Suzanne the results were startling and a lot more intriguing than the rock’s apparent hardness. From the seamount’s position near the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, she expected the rock sample’s age to register in the seven-hundred-thousand-year range. Instead it had tested to be around four billion years old!

Knowing that the oldest rocks ever found on earth’s surface or on the ocean floor were significantly less ancient than this figure, Suzanne had thought that either the dating instrument was out of whack, or she’d made some stupid procedural error. Unwilling to risk ridicule, she decided to keep the results to herself.

With painstaking care she spent hours recalibrating the equipment, and then running additional samples over and over. To her disbelief, the results were all within three or four hundred million years of each other. Still believing there had to be a dating instrument malfunction involved, Suzanne had Tad Messenger, the head lab tech, recalibrate it. When she ran the sample again, the result was within a few million years of the previous one. Still in doubt, Suzanne reconciled herself to waiting until she got back to L.A. so she could use the university lab’s equipment. Meanwhile the results were hidden away in her ship’s locker. She tried to reserve judgment, but her interest in Sea Mount Olympus soared.

“We have hot coffee in a Thermos aft if you’d like some,” Suzanne said. “I’d be happy to get it for you.”

“I think I’d be happier if you stay at the controls,” Perry said.