“I’m just checking with NEIC now, but I don’t see it going up much.” The seismic equipment at the National Earthquake Information Center monitored data readings from stations around the world, allowing them to determine the location of an earthquake to within a hundred meters.
“And,” Reggie continued, “the seismic wave patterns suggest a strike-slip event.” Strike-slip faults move sideways instead of vertically. Vertical displacements of the ocean floor cause most tsunamis, like the one that had struck South Asia in 2004.
“Besides, it’s in an area that has never generated a tsunami. That’s actually why I called you,” said Reggie. “Look at this.” He pointed at the computer monitor.
The screen showed a map of the central Pacific with a blue dot pinpointing a position five hundred miles northwest of Christmas Island, southwest of the Palmyra Atoll. The color blue meant that the quake was located near the earth’s surface.
“What’s the distance from here?”
“About two thousand kilometers,” said Reggie. A little more than twelve hundred miles.
Kai did the quick mental calculation in his head that was second nature to all tsunami scientists. Since all tsunamis traveled at approximately five hundred miles per hour in open ocean—about the speed of a jet airliner—it was easy math. But before Kai could speak, Reggie handed him a printout.
“Already got it.”
The printout showed a list of station names and codes of all of the tide gauges in the Pacific Ocean. Next to each station name was its latitude, longitude, and the estimated arrival time for the potential tsunami.
“Looks like that gives us between two and two and a half hours.”
“I’m predicting we’ll barely see a tide change,” said Reggie. “The tide sensor at Christmas Island will tell us for sure.”
Kai looked back at the printout. Any wave generated by the event would reach Christmas Island in thirty-five minutes.
He checked the tide gauge schedule. Most of the tide gauges would transmit their readings to a satellite, which then got relayed to the PTWC. Although the gauges were cheap to produce and monitored tide levels twenty-four hours a day, their main drawback was that they sent the tide-level data only once an hour.
Kai scanned the list to find Christmas Island. The next transmission would be only five minutes after the wave was supposed to arrive there.
“Show me the earthquake map.”
Reggie clicked on the appropriate icon, and colored dots bloomed on the map around the blue marker. The circles showed the seismic events around the Pacific Rim, with the different colors representing the depths of the events. A few red stars punctuated the map, showing where tsunamis had started. None of the stars was located within five hundred miles of the blue dot.
“That area has never even had an earthquake,” Kai said.
“Weird, huh?” Reggie said. “I’d guess one of two things.
First, it could be a fault that we’ve never detected before.”
“Highly unlikely.”
“Right. But second—and this is the exciting part—it could be a new seamount. That would explain why it’s so shallow.”
Now Kai understood Reggie’s excitement. A new seamount was a rare phenomenon, essentially the birth of a new island. An underwater volcano erupted over a magma hot spot on the ocean floor, building a mountain around itself and regularly unleashing earthquakes in the process. If the seamount got high enough, it broke through the surface of the water, which is exactly how the Hawaiian Islands were formed and were still forming, as the continual eruption of Kilauea on the Big Island spectacularly demonstrated.
If this event did turn out to be a seamount, Reggie would get the credit for discovering it. For a geophysicist, it was analogous to an astronomer finding a new comet.
“Congratulations,” Kai said. “If it turns out to be a new seamount, you’ll get journal articles out of it for the next five years.”
“Damn straight.” Reggie winked. “If you’re good to me, I might have room to put you as second author.”
“Your generosity is overwhelming.” Reggie let out a huge belly laugh at that. “But before we start celebrating,” Kai continued, “let’s make sure that we’re not dealing with a tsunami here. You’re doing the usual?”
“Other than figuring out a name for my seamount,” Reggie said, “I’m working with the NEIC to pinpoint the quake more precisely. I’m also scanning the ANSS database to check our readings against theirs.” They had a direct feed from the Advanced National Seismic System, the data source for the NEIC estimations.
Kai nodded in appreciation for how fast Reggie moved. “Good work. After Christmas Island, our next tide reading won’t be until the wave reaches Johnston Island.”
Then Kai remembered something.
“Hey, isn’t the
Reggie tapped on his computer. “Yeah, they started setting it up two days ago. They should be there for another week.” He overlaid the ship’s location on the earthquake map. Before the Asian tsunami, there were only six operational DART buoys, but now new ones were coming online every few months, one of the few positive outcomes of the Southeast Asian disaster. The buoy they were currently testing was intended for the coastline of Russia.
“Is the buoy active? This might be a good test for them. At their location, they should be getting a wave reading just about the same time Johnston Island does.”
“I’ll call NOAA and have them radio the ship to be ready.”
“What do you need from me?”
The buzzer for the front gate sounded.
“You need to handle the tour group,” Reggie said, pointing toward the reception area.
“Looks like it’s showtime. Come find me when we get the tide readings from Christmas Island.”
Kai pressed the button to open the gate, then quickly assembled his presentation materials. It looked like it was going to be a busy day after all.
SEVEN
Harold Franklin seethed quietly as the catamaran cruised through the water three miles west of Christmas Island. He had been looking forward to this vacation for months, primarily because of the island’s world-renowned bonefishing. Standing in the surf, casting a line, and hauling in some bonefish—that was why he was here. Not to sit on some boat with seven other people he didn’t know. Besides, he hated snorkeling. “How long are we going to be out here?” Harold said.
His wife, Gina, who was sunning on the canvas stretched between the catamaran’s hulls and nursing a pina colada, narrowed her eyes at him. “Listen, buddy, I let you plan this trip because you said we could spend some time doing things other than fishing. I’m not sitting in the hotel room every day by myself while you’re down at the beach. I should have talked you into going to Hawaii. At least there they have shopping and a decent cup of coffee.”
“But come on. Snorkeling? Do you really need me here for this?”
“At the hotel, they said this is the best reef in the area. And I don’t know anyone else here, so I don’t want to hear another word about it. You’ll get to fish plenty this week.”
“If we’re going snorkeling, then I wish we’d get it over with.”
“The captain said he got a report of some whales out here. Don’t you want to see them?”
