During the glacial loading of their equipment, the US team on board the Georgy Kozmin soon came across the British-built Venom ROV that Captain Novikov had initially deployed to try to free AS-28. As part of his team, Commander Van Horn had brought two specialist ROV technicians from the civilian marine technology firm, Oceaneering. They inspected the stricken robot and found the umbilical cable had been badly mangled – apparently by its own thrusters – but otherwise the unit was pretty new and in good shape. They had all their tools and reported that they could swiftly effect a professional repair job; since there was nothing else for them to be doing, they would have been glad of the occupation. Their offer was sharply declined.
Van Horn was now fuming. It was nonsensical. This was an emergency situation. If the technicians had managed to get a fix with the Venom ROV, he had pilots able to operate it. The Kozmin could have sailed with that, rather than waiting at least seven hours for the ancient crane to load the Super-Scorpios. The Australian ship from Shell Exploration had reported that it would not reach the site until 08.00 on Monday morning, and given the problems the British were reporting, backup was now vital. But for all his efforts, Van Horn’s explanations, demands and pleas fell on deaf ears. He was beginning to appreciate just how deeply Russian culture had excised original thinking. There was no reward for coming up with solutions or thinking outside the box, just punishment for not doing exactly what you had been told.
Commander Bill Hamblett had been passing the time on the ship watching the Russian officers. He’d noticed that Captain Novikov was often accompanied by senior Russian Naval staff. He didn’t look happy, and from the scraps of conversation that he’d managed to overhear it seemed the commander of the Georgy Kozmin was already being dressed down for his part in the accident – for deploying AS-28 without means to rescue her if there was a problem, and for allowing a non-qualified person to use the Venom ROV and destroy it in the process. Hamblett got the distinct impression that the officers were there to relieve Novikov of his command once the Americans had left the ship. He was also getting a strong feeling that the Russian officers didn’t want the Americans involved in the rescue, nor for Novikov to have any chance of playing a part in a successful outcome.
Saturday, 6 August/Sunday, 7 August
SS + 63 h 30 mins
After five hours of steaming, an hour ahead of the Master’s estimate, a flotilla of grey, military vessels and shambolic-looking civilian ships and tugs appeared on the horizon ahead of KIL-27, marking the vessel’s arrival above the huge hydrophone array and the submersible it had ensnared.
Gold glanced up to see the assembled fleet. Scorpio lay in pieces in front of him, both pods stripped out, and his team were still running through the mazes of connections and circuit boards with manuals propped open in front of them. They were closing in on the rescue site, and still they didn’t have a functional rescue vehicle. Time was running out.
The dogs weren’t making anything easier, either. Every time anyone moved about on deck, the huge black Rottweiler half-breed on the bridge deck above would give a blood-curdling series of barks. The German Shepherd guarding the main deck would respond fiercely, while guarding the one patch of deck that the team needed to get to. When not actively defending its territory it was marking it out, relieving itself on Scorpio and the control cab. Trying to shoo it away was treated as an attack. Eventually, it was led away by one of the crew, leaving only a spaniel wandering the aft deck.
By 09.00, all the circuit boards inside both of Scorpio’s pods had been re-seated, connectors had been changed and everything that could be re-secured with duct tape had been. Before re-sealing the pods, Gold took a deep breath and went back to the control cabin to try powering up the vehicle again. If Scorpio didn’t work this time, he didn’t know what he was going to do. He’d tried everything.
He flicked the switch. For a second everything seemed to freeze, and then all four camera screens burst into life with images of rusting deck. Gold’s eyes flicked from gauge to gauge, checking power levels and sensor functions. He turned a dial on the sonar and felt his stomach unclench as its familiar wedge of orange static sprang on to the screen.
He didn’t cheer, not yet. He walked to the container door and looked out at Nuttall, and nodded quietly. Moving back indoors, he flicked through the lights one by one.
‘Front main check good, rear check good,’ came the call. This was more like it. He switched on the hydraulic pump, and moved the joystick forward. He could hear the comforting whirr of the thrusters before Nuttall confirmed it.
‘Dive thruster check good,’ Nuttall shouted. Gold move the stick to the left, then the right. ‘Lateral one check good, two check good,’ he heard.
They were in business. The only thing that seemed strange was that the main front camera was showing a picture in black and white, not colour. He’d never seen that before, but Gold put it down to the low voltage, which was still hovering around the 375-volt mark. He sat down heavily in the pilot’s chair and let the relief flood through him. Nuttall walked in with a lopsided grin. ‘Whisky?’ he said.
‘That’d do the trick, aye,’ said Gold. ‘But not yet.’
Nuttall usually brought some whisky along – his father had shares in the Arran distillery, shares that paid out in different vintages of malt rather than in cheques. But they were a long way from being able to celebrate anything. They still needed to get the casings back on the pods; sealing them up properly was vital. It was all too easy to rush putting things back together, and at the pressures which Scorpio would soon be experiencing, a small mistake would mean a flood of water and a dead vehicle.
First the seats of the O-ring seal were carefully cleaned to make sure they were free of any grit, then the rubber O-rings themselves were inspected and greased with a thin film to help them slide around and seal any minute gaps. With the lid carefully placed, the hex bolts around the casing were screwed in on alternate sides, ensuring an even application of pressure. Although each member of the team had done it hundreds of times before, none of them were any less cautious. Mistakes here were easy and this time they would be expensive, not just in electronics but in terms of human life.
Just as KIL-27’s engines began to slow, indicating that they’d reached the site, Scorpio was back together again. At last, holding a steaming cup of coffee, Gold looked across the deck and out over the western Pacific. While the ship’s crews sorted out the unorthodox mooring arrangement, he’d have a little time to gather his thoughts for the next phase of the rescue. Seeing calm sea and its unruffled surface, he could hardly believe their luck. More than anything, good weather could be a lifesaver. It didn’t matter where in the world you were – you could be right off the Scottish coast, surrounded by the best underwater intervention technology available, and if the sea was in a bad mood then there was nothing that could be done until the storm had cleared.