Tom banked to the left, setting up to do a reconnaissance fly-past to rule out any floating logs, small boats, sand bars, or surface debris inside the calm turquoise waters of the main lagoon. He dropped his height, flying through the entrance to the mountains, staying just above the water, before pulling back on the wheel and climbing out of the lagoon over the limestone mountains.
Next to him, Genevieve, turned and said, “Okay, now this is more like it. For once, Sam has really sent us on a vacation.”
“It was kind of him. He did mention he’d like us to locate a deadly island of floating radioactive pumice while we’re here though.”
Genevieve stretched back in her seat, folding her arms over her lap. She looked like the epitome of the vacationing tourist, relaxed and comfortable. She had brown hair which she wore short, giving her an almost elf-like appearance. She wore a blue singlet that accentuated her lithe, muscular arms, and slim figure and a pair of short cargo pants. Despite her appearance, she was one of the deadliest women — or men — on Earth.
Her dark blue eyes scanned the beach with interest, and she smiled. “Suit yourself. We’ll find the island of nuclear pumice, message Sam, and get back to our vacation.”
Tom banked again, bringing the Skycatcher around for its final approach. “No reason we can’t enjoy ourselves, too, darling.”
“Good. Just so we’re in agreement about that.”
Tom flew a sharp, 180 degree turn, entering the main lagoon via the seaward access route. He set the flaps to thirty degrees, reduced power, and brought the Cessna Skycatcher into a glide. Using peripheral vision for cues, he observed the height of the trees on shore, his eyes carefully observing the ripples on the water.
Just above the surface, he raised the nose. This made the aircraft flare, meaning to lose lift and stall, slowing its descent, causing its twin pontoons to softly hydroplane for a moment before they sank gently into the water.
Several long-tailed boats were anchored up against the sandy shore, with a couple Moken kabangs pulled up on the beach.
Tom taxied the seaplane toward the island’s single jetty.
Genevieve climbed out and tied the floats up to a set of cleats on the jetty with a series of mooring lines, before giving Tom the thumbs up signal.
Tom reduced the engine to an idle, before powering off. The engine coughed and the propeller stopped spinning. He unclipped his harness, opened the door, and took in a deep breath of the warm, tropical air.
Genevieve stepped up to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him on the lips. “Island of deadly floating pumice or not, this still looks like paradise to me.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The constant drum of the Tahila’s powerful twin diesel engines came to a rest 12 miles south of Guam. Approximately 6.8 miles of water below her keel rested on the southernmost tip of the Mariana Trench. Despite being the deepest known location of any ocean in the world the water this morning was as flat as a millpond; the only small ripples seen were those caused by the wake of the ship.
Sam Reilly stepped out onto the upper deck, to set his eyes on it.
The weather was warm and deceitfully comforting. Matthew and Veyron followed him topside.
“There’s nearly seven miles of seawater below our keel gentlemen,” Sam said, his voice slow, almost reverent. “Compare that to the final resting place of the RMS Titanic, which was a cool 3.5 miles or a relative breeze by comparison with current submersible technologies, and you get some perspective about the area we’ve been asked to search.”
Veyron’s downturned eyes looked up to see more than a hundred flying fish leave the calm water and spiral into the air, while the giant tuna jumped out of the water to feed on them. “More people have walked on the moon than reached its depth.”
“And only mankind would be dumb enough to even consider dumping nuclear waste in such a place,” Sam said. “Yet, in 2015 that’s exactly what was suggested at a United Nations meeting on sustainable storage of nuclear waste.”
Matthew’s jaw hardened. “That’s insane.”
“Yeah, it was. And, finding reason, the UN council vetoed the proposal as being reckless with the potentially catastrophic results being impossible to manage due to its severe depth. But if the Carpe Diem did in fact come across radioactive material in a floating nearby island of pumice, then it suggests someone didn’t agree to the UN’s veto.”
Matthew asked, “Do we have any evidence of that fact, yet?”
Sam shook his head. “No. That’s what we’ve been asked to gather.”
“The Mariana Trench is a big place. How do you propose you’re going to narrow the location down?”
“We’ll be leaving a series of floating Geiger Counters, designed to pick up and measure any ionizing radiation in the form of alpha particles, beta particles, and gamma rays.” Sam ran his eyes across the still water. “The Tahila will be running deep water bathymetry, searching for any large changes in the seabed — specifically looking for any recent evidence of the eruption of a submerged volcano.”
“Have there been any reports of seismic activity?” Veyron asked.
“Yes. Two weeks ago, a measuring station set up on Guam recorded enormous amounts of energy in line with a large tectonic shift. Some bright minds at the Pentagon who have analyzed the data tell me that energy like that could only come from three known sources: an erupting volcano, a tectonic shift, or an atomic bomb.”
“So this must be the right location?” Veyron said.
“Possibly…” Sam replied. “And possibly not. The Mariana Trench is located where the Pacific and Philippine tectonic plates converge, meaning powerful tectonic shifts are very common in the region. Our job is to find out if this is something different.”
“Understood,” Matthew and Veyron replied in unison.
“That’s what I was thinking. Let’s get to it then gentlemen.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Tahila followed a grid, searching that stretched along a region ten miles north and south along the Mariana Trench from the known location where the Carpe Diem stopped mid-ocean for an hour for no apparent reason.
The Mariana Trench is a crescent-shaped trough in the Earth's crust, roughly 1,580 miles long, and 43 miles wide. The maximum known depth is 36,070 feet along the southern end of a slot shaped valley, known as Challenger Deep.
Inside the ship’s command center, Sam watched the array of computer monitors, taking in the data from a collection of sources, including Geiger Counters, sea temperature gauges, and bathymetric readings of the shape of the seabed far below. Of the three of these, only the third one, the bathymetric readings were particularly interesting to watch on the screens. The Geiger Counters and thermometers would sound an alarm if they received data outside normal parameters.
Matthew stood at the helm, which was set on autopilot to follow the specific grid course, while he maintained watch.
Sam said, “Did you know, if Mount Everest was dropped into the trench at this point, its peak would be 1.2 miles under water?”
Matthew shook his head. “No. As a sailor, I’ve always aimed to remain on the surface of the ocean, giving very little thought to any additional room beneath the keel.”
Sam wasn’t easily dissuaded by his apathy on the topic. “Do you know what part of the seafloor is closest to the center of the Earth?”