Page 9 of Noah's Reckoning
“Shit,” I muttered.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t have a choice,” I told him.
“I know,” he said grimly. “But blowing it when it’s this unstable could be dangerous, too.”
“Not if the BOP was designed right.”
He glared at me. “You questioning my work?”
“No. I’m telling you I trust your work. You designed the blow-out protection system, which means it will work when you fire it. But you have to do it now before those pipes start to crack under the pressure.”
“Sorry, Lizzie.” I watched as Noah called up the protocol.
As soon as it fired, we could feel it. The movement of the water along the rig caused a tremor. Right now, massive amounts of cement were filling the well at set points and secondary pipes were being opened to give the oil and gas multiple outlets to re-reroute.
If it worked, the pressure of the main well would start to go down.
If it didn’t, North Sea Dyson would most likely blow.
“Take the boat and leave. Now.”
I shook my head. “I’m not leaving you, Noah. It’s your system. Your design. It’s going to work. Check the numbers.”
“Not moving yet.”
It was like we both held our breath. Then after a few minutes, Noah checked the numbers again and let out a sigh of relief.
“Pressure is coming down.”
Then it was my turn to breathe. “I knew it.”
For another hour we watched as the oil and gas dispersed to the secondary containment units until, finally, the pressure on Lizzie was at normal levels. The cement would seal it permanently. No risk of anything blowing up today. Noah updated Cal and let him know it was safe for a crew to return.
“You shouldn’t have risked it,” he said once it was over. “Coming here. I could have done this on my own.”
I shook my head. “Together we moved faster. And if the other wells also had to be blown, you might not have been able to do it all yourself in time. Me coming was the smart decision.”
“Whatever. All right, let’s get these other wells turned down. I don’t want to take any chances without knowing what went wrong with Lizzie and not knowing how fast we can get a crew out here.”
For another hour we worked to slowly bring down the production on all three wells. Enough so the operation could run independently for a limited amount of time.
When we were done, he said nothing but moved around me out of the command control.
“Where are you going?” I called, following him to the door of the main cabin.
As soon as I opened the door, the elements hit me in the face like a punch to the nose. The cold was numbing. The wind was whipping around, the snow coming down so hard it felt like little bee stings all over my face.
“Second problem, second,” he called over his shoulder.
I had no idea what that meant until he climbed down the ladder to the dock. The ice was pushing against the boat and the dock.
“It looks thick,” I said. “What does this mean?”
“It means we have to go now.” He hopped in the boat and was moving to start the engine.
“What about the chopper?” All offshore rigs had a helicopter landing pad, and Offshore One currently had a chopper docked there. “Wouldn’t that be safer?”
