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Breakthrough(11)

By:Michael C. Grumley


“So you moved to Washington.” Emerson was clearly enjoying this.

“I had no choice,” he shrugged. “He had too much dirt on me.”

“Sadly,” added Clay, “everyone has dirt on Steve.”

“So from SEAL team to an electronics expert. That’s quite a jump,” Emerson said.

“Well, like Clay, I had a science background before joining the SEALs.”

The Captain nodded. “Well I’m surprised we haven’t met before, this isn’t the first time Clay has hijacked one of my ships in the name of E&S.”

“Yeah, well, the last time,” Clay mused, nodding at Caesare. “He was getting married…again.”

“A girl in every port, I’m sure.” Emerson looked at his watch. “The team should be about ready. I’ll drop you off at the comms room before I head back up to the bridge.”



The communications room served as the headquarters where most of the Pathfinder’s research was done. Packed with wall to wall instruments, it was roomier than they were expecting, and clean as a whistle; a reminder that Emerson ran a tight ship. They ducked slightly as they stepped into the room. Several of the team members were there with one seated at what looked to be the control panel for their remote wonder. Tay stood behind his seated comrade, looking over some instruments. He stood up quickly just as Emerson nodded and headed back up to the bridge.

“You guys ready? We’re done checking out.” He looked out the small window. “Should have plenty of daylight depending on how many samples you need.” He motioned to one of the men next to him. “Grab them a couple seats, Pete.”

Clay and Caesare sat down and scooted forward, close enough to see the monitors clearly. Two were displaying a video feed, one of the rover swinging from the metal arm outside, and the other showing the view looking out from the Triton’s bubble. The gentle waves, distorted through the craft’s reinforced Plexiglas, could be seen slapping against a small section of the ship’s hull.

“All right, all systems go?” Tay asked, looking around the room. Most of the members turned from their instruments and nodded with an “aye”.

“All right, let ‘er drop,” he called out.

The crew member in the seat reached forward, grasped a chrome handle and pulled back firmly. All eyes went to the first monitor and watched it fall from the steel arm into the water a few feet below. Tay smiled and looked back at his visitors. “That was always the worst part with the tethered rovers.”

The second monitor showed water sloshing across the Triton’s bubbled window, with roughly half beneath the water line.

“Everything up on screen, please.” Suddenly the other monitors came to life displaying a variety of statistics and graphs. The largest monitor providing information on battery charge and graphs for each of the rover’s nine motors. Each graph listed the current and RPM of its individual motor, giving an impressive level of granularity. “Looking good.”

In the chair, Jim Lightfoot grasped a large joystick and gave it a gentle twist. The rover banked right and began moving away from the ship.

“Okay,” Tay said standing up straight. “How deep was your sub when it had the problem?”

“Five hundred and seventy meters.”

“Alright Lighty,” he said patting his teammate on the shoulder. “Let’s take her down.”

With a gentle push forward the Triton’s view became clear as it slipped below the surface. The water was crystal clear with the colors becoming dark blue as the craft descended into the ocean’s depths.

“Full steam ahead.”

Lightfoot continued to push forward on the joystick and the small specks floating in the water suddenly raced past as the rover accelerated. Clay looked up and watched the RPM’s of the motors jump.

“Lights on,” called Tay. Instantly the increasingly dark water became a tunnel of white light as the LED’s ringing the front of the Triton came to life.

Caesare looked at Clay clearly impressed.

“Passing thirty meters,” called out a crew member.

“So you guys think metal deposits in the soil are what threw off the sub’s instruments?”

“That’s the theory. The area seems to be highly magnetized. If the soil is rich enough it could be influential.”

“Have to be damn rich I would think,” Tay said looking back at the screens. “Maybe we should stake a claim and start mining.” He said with a grin.

Clay smiled in response. He hadn’t considered the possible commercial aspects of such a discovery. The soil would have to be surprisingly rich to interfere with the sub’s signaling, and any soil with that level of density might prove very attractive to mining companies.