The three-person crew of this historic dive was led by Alvin Masterson, a former Navy diver who’d become known for exploring the wreckage of the Titanic. His first mate on the DSC-7, Andrea Koslov, was a Russian-born scientist who’d been on the crew of the ship that monitored the James Cameron dive nearly two decades prior. She’d come out of retirement to assist Captain Toby on this research mission.
Finally, a NASA astronaut was chosen as the third crew member in the event Masterson deemed the conditions safe enough to conduct an exosuit dive. Walt Ballard had been a frequent crew member of the International Space Station and logged many hours walking in space. When Project Artemis was being developed on the lunar surface, he’d helped supervise its construction operations. There were definite similarities between walking on the moon and using the exosuit for deep-sea exploration. Ballard was more than capable of venturing outside the DSC-7 if the situation warranted.
As Masterson piloted the HOV, the crew of the DSC-7 was filled with nervous excitement, as were those aboard the Sea Searcher I.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
One Hundred Seventy Miles off the North Coast of Puerto Rico
The Puerto Rico Trench
Depth: 27,840 feet
Fathoms: 4,640
The Deepsea Challenger 7
North Atlantic Ocean
Masterson wiped the sweat from his palms as he checked the depth indicator on the control panel of the DSC-7. Twenty-six thousand feet. Seven miles of water above their heads. He slowed the descent and studied his sonar. A more detailed view of the ocean’s surface revealed itself. It was remarkably flat, much like the world according to ancient mariners. He checked his atmospheric conditions. Inside the HOV, all indicators were right where they should be. Outside the DSC-7, seventeen thousand pounds per square inch of water pressure threatened to crush them.
Koslov, the cool cucumber who’d performed more deep-water excursions than anyone associated with the Sea Searcher expedition, called out the numbers as Masterson slowed their descent.
“Twenty-seven thousand. Illuminating external lighting.”
Ballard leaned forward between the seats like a little kid trying to see where his parents were taking him. Their submersible cockpit was surrounded by racks of computer monitors and electronics. A jungle of vine-like wires wrapped throughout the compartment like a bad case of overgrown kudzu taking over the side of a hill.
“Easy now,” muttered Masterson as they reached twenty-seven thousand five hundred feet. “We’ll need clearance to maneuver.”
“Well done, Al,” said Ballard with an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
“Thanks, Walt. I kinda know what Buzz Aldrin felt like when he set the lunar module down.”
“Shittin’ bricks?” said Ballard, a Savannah, Tennessee, native.
Masterson laughed. “I took some Imodium before we boarded just to make sure that didn’t happen.”
Koslov adjusted the exterior lighting and then checked their global positioning coordinates. “We’re half a mile north of the wreckage. I’ll text the Sea Searcher and advise.” At this depth, voice communications were not possible, but advanced technology did allow the crew of the DSC-7 to reach out to the surface. Ballard fired off a text and jokingly wrote “the eagle has landed,” a nod to the historic lunar landing Masterson had referenced. He followed up with their location and advised they were half a mile away from the wreckage.
“Course charted,” announced Masterson. He released the controls and allowed the DSC-7 onboard computers to guide them to the coordinates of the wreck. Now, all three of them could wait for the external illumination to reveal the wreck that had led to this consequential dive.
Suddenly, they were engulfed in some type of furry green organisms.
“What the hell?” asked Ballard.
Koslov explained, “Impossible.”
“What?” Ballard’s question showed his concern. He didn’t believe in little green men; therefore space travel didn’t cause him any form of angst. However, the furry pelted worms covering their glass shield did.
“No worries, Mr. Ballard,” she explained. “Those appear to be Pompeii worms. It’s odd to find them in this location. They’re normally found in the hydrothermal vents of the Pacific Ocean. The furry pelt you see is a fleece-like covering over its back that insulates it from extreme heat and cold. There must be a hydrothermal vent nearby.”
“That’s where they live?” he asked.
“No, but the vents supply sulfur for bacteria to live off, which in turn are digested by the worms.”
Masterson glanced at the ocean’s water temperature. “Check it out. Seventy-six degrees.”
“There you have it,” said Koslov. “The vent is probably in the vicinity. In technical terms, they’re called hydrothermal megaplumes. These black smokers, as they’re referred to in seaman’s terms, spew out superheated mineral-infused water that can measure up to seven hundred degrees Fahrenheit. The water will rise to the surface and gradually cool as it encounters the freezing columns of seawater. Then it will achieve neutral buoyancy. That accounts for the unusual sea life found by the prior expedition.”
“Exciting beyond words,” said Ballard. He’d be more impressed with little green men. He pointed forward. The Pompeii worms were dissipating. Their departure was commensurate with the water temperatures dropping drastically toward the thirties. “Holy shit! Back it off, Al!”
Masterson reactively pulled back on the throttle, overriding the computer’s control of the submersible. The main propulsion slowed, but the stabilizers that maintained a steady two hundred feet above the ocean floor continued to allow the DSC-7 to hover safely. Even at this distance from the ocean floor, the forced air caused bits of floating sediment to float all around them.
The three of them were awestruck and sat in complete silence as their view cleared and they were able to observe their surroundings. A layer of greenish-brown silt covered their discovery, softening the outlines of debris forced off the ocean floor when the wreckage had found its final resting place. Several large dark fish swam through the light, uninterested in the presence of the newcomers.
The hulking ruin of the submarine emerged from the sea floor like the
