Disappointed, she pushed Jerry hard to keep the Manta out as long as possible and shared her frustration with anyone that came within earshot.
On the second day, during the third Manta sortie, Jerry picked up a large contact on the sonar. It was so large it couldn’t be anything but a barge or a small ship of some sort.
“Maybe it’s a submarine,” Patterson speculated as Davis sent Huey to investigate. She’d come to the torpedo room as soon as Jerry had reported the contact, even though there was little she could do. She double-checked Davis’ navigation and went over the battery figures to compute how much time they’d have once they got there. Finally a request from Hardy for her to return to the control room left Jerry and everyone else grateful for his intervention.
Jerry’s Manta took up its customary protective circle while Huey approached the contact. Emily kept the ROV well away from the seabed, both to keep from stirring up the bottom and so they could get an overall look at whatever it was.
About twenty feet away, the ROV’s camera finally revealed the edge of a large structure. Stanchions and lifelines identified it as some sort of vessel. She passed the camera down its flat sides to a square-cut end. After some inspection, they were able to determine that it was the stern.
The radiation count was low, barely above background — just a faint gamma count. “So whatever’s in there is either well contained or there is very little in terms of radioactive material,” Jerry surmised. More disappointment for Dr. Patterson.
But what was in there? Patterson’s voice joined them on the circuit, impatient with passing questions through a phone talker. As they speculated, Emily Davis continued to search the exterior of the barge with the ROV’s camera. It was a lot like looking at an elephant through a keyhole. If she moved far enough back to get a larger view, the water completely obscured her view, so she was limited to examining one small patch of the hull at a time.
The barge carried no markings, which was not unusual. The almost complete absence of marine growth and corrosion indicated that it had been there for only about ten years or so. “So the late ‘80s or early ‘90s, right?” Davis asked on the circuit. Patterson concurred.
It had settled neatly on the bottom, scuttled by what appeared to be ballast-tank-like sections along the fore and aft ends. The top of the barge also appeared to have what looked like valve connections, possibly for compressed air lines or to attach a pump of some sort. Whatever this barge was, it looked like it was made to be recovered.
“But what is it?” Patterson asked over the circuit. “The Soviets built specialized barges to hold spent fuel containers. This isn’t the same design.”
The deck of the barge was covered with three hatches, presumably leading down to the cargo hold. One of the hatches lay partially open, leaving a small opening that managed to look both inviting and menacing at the same time.
“Probably popped open by a buildup of air pressure as the barge sank,” speculated Davis on the circuit.
“We’ve got to take a look in there,” Patterson declared.
Howard, the enlisted phone talker, added, “Captain Hardy says ‘Do not go into the hatchway.’”
Patterson’s voice was just as insistent. “I’m sure we can maneuver the ROV inside.”
Davis tried to speak. “Dr. Patterson, the ROV. ”
Howard’s voice came on again. “Captain Hardy wants to see Dr. Davis in control right now.”
Davis replied, “Tell the Captain I can’t leave my station while the ROV is operating.”
There was a pause on the circuit, and then Howard said, “Captain Hardy and Dr. Patterson are on their way down.” His tone carried the message, “Look out.”
Although
Dr. Patterson cut him off. “If we don’t take a few risks, we won’t accomplish our mission.”
“Madam,” answered Hardy sharply, “we’re submerged in poorly charted shoal waters, sending remotely operated vehicles into Russian territory so we can survey radioactive waste. That’s quite enough risk for me.”
Patterson burst through the door first and immediately started grilling Emily. “Dr. Davis, how hard would it be to send the ROV through that opening to see what’s in the cargo hold? I told the Captain that there would be little or no risk, because of your skill with the vehicles.”
Flustered by the question, Davis delayed. “There are many risks we have to consider. Beyond the obvious one of snagging the cable or breaking it, we don’t know how well Huey will be able to maneuver if we go inside. And how stable is the cargo? Will he be trapped by debris? It might be dislodged by the wash from the thruster. And the silt in there could make it so murky we’d be blind in any case.”
Hardy pounced on her statement. “So you think the risks are too great.” He sounded satisfied. Patterson managed to scowl at both Davis and Hardy at the same time.
Seeing Patterson’s expression, Davis answered truthfully, “I am curious, too, sir.”
“Curiosity is not a good enough reason for risking a multimillion-dollar ROV and the covertness of this mission. Imagine the Russians’ surprise if they discovered a ROV entangled in the cargo hold of a barge inside their territorial waters.”
“Oh, and do you think they come here and check often?” Patterson’s tone was acidic.
Davis raised a hand. “Captain, Doctor, we’re using up Huey’s batteries while we argue. Why don’t I maneuver over the open hatch, point the camera down, and see what we can see?”
Hardy couldn’t argue with that — and didn’t. Patterson just smiled broadly. Jerry had to force himself to watch the Manta’s display, stealing only occasional glances at the ROV’s video screen.
Emily approached the barge slowly, careful to use a path as clear of obstructions as possible. With a delicate touch, she lowered the ROV to deck level, with the camera and light overhanging the open hatch. She panned the lens back and forth.
The inside of the hold revealed only dark, angular shadows. It was an unsatisfying image and Patterson clearly wanted more. “Shift the ROV a little,” she ordered. “Maybe if the light comes in at a different angle. ”
“Yes,” Davis answered softly. Skillfully, she backed Huey away and then approached again, so that the light came in from another direction, almost ninety degrees off the earlier view. It was no more revealing, although combining the two views suggested rectangular boxes or crates — a lot of them.
“We have to send the ROV in,” Patterson insisted.
“What’s the radiation reading?” Hardy temporized.
“Very slight, only 10 millirem per hour,” Davis reported. “The cargo is radioactive, but what it is I can’t imagine. It certainly doesn’t look like spent fuel.”
“Those are not spent fuel containers,” Patterson declared. “At least they’re no shape I’ve ever seen or read of.” She looked at Hardy and put her hand on his arm. “Please, Captain.”
Almost startled by her polite intensity, Hardy nodded silently to Davis, who settled herself and took a deep breath.
“First. I’m going to inspect the edge of the hatchway. I want to make sure that there are no sharp edges or hidden snags.” She panned the camera over all four sides of the opening at maximum magnification. The edges were smooth and regular and were covered with a layer of fine silt. “I’m going to reposition,” she announced and backed the ROV off.
The new path brought Huey in at a forty-five-degree angle, so that its length lay across the corners of the hatch, not its edges. She came up to the opening, paused, then scanned the camera in all directions before moving forward. After a few yards, she paused and looked again. It took two more pauses before Davis was satisfied with the Huey’s position in the hatchway.
She gently lowered the ROV, angling the thruster to move it vertically. While everyone was curious about the cargo, Emily kept the cameras pointed at the edge of the hatch so she could gauge Huey’s movements.
She let Huey settle until the ROV was well clear of the hatchway, at least four feet overhead. The camera’s view was being obscured by silt, but not too badly. “I’m killing the motors,” she suddenly announced. “There won’t be a current here.” Hopefully the neutrally buoyant ROV would hover, motionless, as the sediment settled.
When she pointed the camera down, the image was reasonably clear. They could see the cargo hold, perhaps thirty or forty feet long, running across the width of the barge. It was filled by rectangular boxes, about half the
