Page 53 of Clive Cussler Ghost Soldier
“Don’t dawdle.”
“Wouldn’t think of it.”
The Vendor’s eyes were fixed on the screen. Moments later, a proposed debris field appeared, marked in green.
And theNoregowas parked right in the middle of it.
“That ship is trying to recover my cargo!”
“That is my estimation as well.”
That didn’t make any sense. The Gulf of Oman was too deep.Unless…
“Keiko! Lock on to that vessel with a targeting package and send that data to missile launchers one and two.”
“Task completed.”
“Keiko…Launch!”
27
Aboard theSpook Fish
Using the view screen and controls inside theSpook Fish, Callie maneuvered the drone so that its prop faced the silt pile partially covering the flight data recorder’s access door. Within moments the prop blew away the silt, providing clear access.
“This is one of the reasons why I haven’t deployed a fully automated drone system yet,” Callie said. “Sometimes there are problems that still require a human to figure out.”
“That graphene cable is a real breakthrough,” Juan said. “It lets you keep control and provides extra power to your unit.”
“Unless you get all tangled up, then you might lose both. But that’s an operator error, isn’t it?” Callie said.
Linda nodded. “The combination of automated and manual control makes a lot of sense to me.”
“You’re about to see why I like both.”
Callie accessed the drone’s socket tool and affixed it to the first of ten bolts. Thanks to Eric’s download of the Airbus’s schematics, she knew all of the bolt sizes they would encounter on this trip. It was nice to have, but wasn’t really necessary. The drone’s self-adjusting socket tool was designed to automatically fit any bolt within standard parameters.
Callie then put the socket function into auto mode. Juan and Linda watched with fascination as the drone’s socket ratcheted out the first bolt, then located the next nine and removed them as well. Once they were all removed, Callie retook manual control of the drone and manipulated its gripper arm to pull open the flight data recorder access door.
She then guided the drone inside. She used its bright LED lamp to find the recorder bolted to a bulkhead bracket that was now hanging upside down. The bright orange metal box was ten inches long, six inches tall, and five inches wide. It was marked in inverted black letters:flight recorder do not open.
According to the downloaded spec sheet, it weighed only ten pounds—no problem for Callie’s drone, especially given the buoyancy of salt water. She maneuvered the drone to the two multi-pin connectors fixed to the box. One was connected to a power supply, and the other communicated with the data terminal. Both were easily disengaged by Callie’s deft handling of the controls. Within moments, she was working on the bracket bolts to free the box.
A text message from theOregonsuddenly flashed on theSpook Fish’s main monitor.
“Be advised…we are under attack.”
“Get me comms,” Juan said.
Linda tapped a virtual toggle switch on the monitor. A virtual keyboard appeared under the flash warning.
Juan used his index fingers to type out, “SITREP.”
There was no response.
“SITREP!”
Nothing.
