“It always makes me think of the Moon,” Kurt said as he flicked another switch and the telescoping boom began to extend from the top of the submersible.
“What’s that?” Emma asked.
“That is the reason they call this sub the Angler,” he said. “Joe named it after the anglerfish. A well-known denizen of the deep with a very particular method of getting food.”
“I know all about those fish,” Emma said. “They trick other fish into swimming near their mouths using a lighted antenna. When a smaller fish is attracted to the lure, they open their big mouths and chomp on it.”
“Exactly,” Kurt said. “In fact, I’m fairly certain chomp is the exact term marine biologists use to describe it.”
She laughed.
Outside, the boom locked in place with a dull click; its tip was now extended out in front of the sub by fifty feet. Kurt flipped a switch and a slight electric buzz became audible in the speakers of the intercom system. But aside from the static, and an almost invisible halo around the boom, nothing else happened.
“Looks like someone forgot to change the lightbulbs,” Emma said.
Kurt flipped another switch and a pair of cameras on a lower part of the boom came to life. The video was displayed on a flat screen in the center panel between the two seats. It showed a view of the terrain stretching several hundred feet ahead of them. Undulations in the sediment were clearly visible; mounds of lava rock appeared here and there. In one spot, a deep-sea crab flared white and then vanished as it buried itself in the silt.
Looking through the canopy with the naked eye, none of this was visible.
“High-intensity violet and ultraviolet light,” Kurt said. “It penetrates seawater far better than the visible spectrum, but since human eyes are not sensitive to UV frequencies—”
“You use cameras tuned to pick it up,” she said, finishing the thought for him. “Ingenious.”
“It allows us to explore the dark much more efficiently,” he said. “And if you’re feeling a little pale, it doubles as a tanning salon. Though a minute or two in the beam would leave you burned.”
They continued across the flat expanse, dividing their attention between what they saw on the screen and the view through the curved front window. As they neared the target, Kurt took manual control of the sub and brought them in closer.
The first thing they came in contact with was a flat piece of metal that had been bent and twisted. On the screen, a second piece could be seen nearby, complete with a hinge and some wires attached to it.
Kurt moved closer and the two pieces of debris became visible in the normal light.
“You were right,” Emma said. “Definitely man-made.”
Kurt eased up to the first target and held station against the current. “See if you can grab it with the claw,” he said, pointing to a pair of joysticks in between the two seats.
“I warn you,” she said. “I never get anything when I play this game at the carnival.”
“No one does,” he said. “That’s why the stuffed animals are covered in an inch of dust.”
Emma tested the controls, which resembled those of a miniature remote-controlled car. Pushing one of the sticks forward, she extended a metal arm with a claw-like pincer on the end. M
anipulating the claw until it was directly over one of the targets, she plucked the four-foot strip of metal from the silt on the first try.
“Great job,” Kurt said.
“Now what?”
“Drop it in the bin,” he said, pointing to a twelve-foot-long bin attached to the Angler’s port side.
With a twist of the joystick, she drew the arm back in and positioned it over the recovery bin. “Good?”
Kurt nodded.
She pressed the release button and the metal strip fell from the claw into the bin, hitting with a soft bump.
“If you fill that one up, we still have a second bin on the starboard side,” Kurt told her. “They’re detachable. We can send them topside by using inflatable air bags, if we need to, or we can keep them in place and carry them home when we surface.”
“Perfect for cleaning the ocean floor,” Emma said.