“How do you do that?” It was a question, not a challenge.
“Weapons grade plutonium is highly refined. What we found on board the Carpe Diem was poor quality plutonium, mixed in with a number of fission byproducts, and transuranic elements — meaning it was the waste byproduct of nuclear energy production.”
“Someone’s been dumping nuclear waste somewhere they shouldn’t be?”
“It looks like it.”
“Any idea where?”
“No. In fact, we doubt the nuclear reactor is even still in service.”
“Why?”
Dr. Smyth said, “Do you know much about nuclear power production?”
“Not a lot. The debate about its benefit for the planet has been hotly contested since the sixties, with those for it arguing that nuclear power is more efficient than coal, and therefore a cleaner source of energy.”
She nodded. “A kilogram of uranium-235 converted via nuclear processes releases approximately three million times more energy than a kilogram of coal burned conventionally.”
Sam shrugged. “Sure. But a kilogram of coal never accidentally turned into a nuclear meltdown, potentially killing millions, and leaving vast areas of the Earth uninhabitable for thousands of years.”
“It does happen, but it’s very rare these days. The fact remains, less people die from accidents involving nuclear power globally, than worldwide deaths that can be attributed to the effects of global warming, and poor breathable air quality as a result of coal power production. Besides, the inbuilt safety redundancy systems on modern nuclear power plants rarely fail.”
“Try telling that to the families of those who lived and worked in the Fukushima Daiichi power plant?”
“I did.”
“You did what?”
“I told the families of the workers at the Fukushima Daiichi Power Plant that it was extremely rare for a modern nuclear power plant to have this sort of disaster, only proving the need for humanity to move away from traditional energy sources of fuel and uranium, turning to greener sources.”
Sam paused. His lips twisted in a wry grin of incredulity. “So you agree with me?”
“Mr. Reilly, I was part of the international nuclear advisory team that assisted during the Fukushima Daiichi Power Plant disaster. You don’t need to convince me of the potential risks of nuclear power.”
“Then why did you disagree with me about nuclear power?”
“I never disagreed with you. I simply wanted to make sure I had expressed all the facts before giving you my scientific conclusion.”
He smiled. She was smart and funny… he liked that.
“So how can you tell what the plutonium came from?”
She sighed, unsure about how much she could be bothered explaining. Then, as though deciding to give Sam the benefit of the doubt, she said, “It has to do with the type of nuclear reactor.”
“Go on, how?”
“Modern nuclear reactors designed for energy production are generally what are called thermal reactors, meaning they use a nuclear reactor to initiate and control a self-sustained nuclear chain reaction.”
Sam said, “I’m still with you. Go on…”
“Most reactor designs in existence are thermal reactors and typically use water as a neutron moderator, which means that it slows down the neutrons to a thermal or slower speed, and they use the water as a coolant, of course. But in a fast breeder reactor, some other kind of coolant is used which will not moderate or slow the neutrons down much. This enables fast neutrons to dominate, which can effectively be used to constantly replenish the fuel supply. By merely placing cheap unenriched uranium into such a core, the non-fissionable U-238 will be turned into Pu-239.” She met his eye, paused, and said, “Now, those on board the Carpe Diem were exposed to high levels of Pu-239.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”
Her lips thinned into a hardline. “Modern nuclear reactors use every last bit of plutonium produced as a means of maintaining the chain reaction.”
“But?”
“Early nuclear reactors were never designed to efficiently produce energy. They were built to produce plutonium for weapons, using heavy water to collect the highly unstable radioactive isotopes.” She looked at him, her eyes narrowing, as she tried to gauge how much he was following. “Early attempts to create nuclear reactions for electricity generation used heavy water, and thus wasted huge amounts of the highly unstable Pu-239 as a byproduct.”
Sam said, “Are you telling me the Carpe Deum has recently somehow sailed past a pile of nuclear waste dumped from the sixties?”
“Yes, but I have no way of telling from our assessment of the vessel where that happened.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I’ve spoken to the Secretary of Defense. She tells me that as soon as you’re well enough to leave, it will be your job to find out. Although where you begin such a search, beats the hell out of me.”
“Yeah, that makes two of us.” Sam shook her hand again. “Thanks again, Doctor Smyth.”
“You’re welcome.” Dr. Smyth handed him a bag. “Your clothes and cell phone have all been decontaminated. I’ve left you my contact details, in case you need any further assistance. Let me know what you find out. I’m keen to learn.”
“For sure, you’ll be the first one I call.”
She glanced at him, holding her gaze a moment longer than was natural. “Good luck, Mr. Reilly.”
“Thank you, Dr. Smyth.”
“I’m not your doctor anymore. You can call me Alyssa.”
Sam smiled. “Thank you, Alyssa.”
Sam watched her go, wondering what the rules were on doctors dating people who were no longer their patients. It was a fleeting thought. A curiosity. Nothing more. But there was something alluring about Alyssa that intrigued him.
He picked up his cell phone.
There was a message from Elise — ALICIA YEAGER POSTED THIS ON SOCIAL MEDIA TEN DAYS AGO.
He clicked open to download the high-resolution image.
Inside was a picture of a large, floating island of pumice.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Tahila raced west out into the Pacific Ocean at full speed.
Sam stood at the helm, holding onto the wheel, enjoying the sheer pleasure of the ship’s raw power, speed, and agility, as she gracefully danced over the surface. He would have liked to go up onto the deck, but given their speed, that was entirely out of the question. Shaped like a bullet, the Tahila skimmed and pierced the waves.
Matthew, Sam’s skipper, stood next to him, his eyes rapt with pleasure at the way the new ship handled.
Sam asked, “What do you think?”
“I think she’s an abomination to traditional sailing, but if you’re going to embrace all this technology, then you’ve got to do it all the way. She’s more like a rocket ship than a cruiser.”
“Yeah, she’s a delight to handle,” Sam acknowledged. “Somehow it’s what I imagine it would be like to drive a racecar — there’s more power than you could ever know what to do with.”
He handed the helm back to Matthew, who refused to put it onto autopilot yet. Instead, he took the wheel, and enjoyed the experience. Sam laughed, wondering how far along their journey into the Pacific Ocean it would take before he lost interest and switched back to fully autonomous control.
“Good bye, Matthew. I’m going to go talk to Veyron.”
“Good luck, Sam. Veyron’s like a kid in a candy store, admiring and working his way through the various assessments of each of his new diving machines.”
“Good. Because that’s exactly what I need to talk to him about.”
Sam headed aft, along the internal passageways, before taking a set of internal stairs down into the dive locker. Here Veyron was working his way through a series of tests for the new Triton 36,000/3 three-person submarine. It was an updated version of the old Sea Witch II that was destroyed when the Maria Helena was torpedoed.