Previous: Chapter Twenty-Nine:
“Needle… haystack.” Said Frances.
“What?” asked Merl.
“The Southern Indian Ocean is wide and deep,” replied the veteranarian. “It’s far from land. We can’t go there, at least,” (Frances shot a glance at Jo) “not without special permission, or without more gear than we’ve got money for.”
MaryLiz’s eyes narrowed. “Merl’s right. People have been de-orbiting satellites here for more thwn a hundred years. My Mom was little when International Space Station de-orbited. Mom told me that forty million people watched it burn.”
“From WHERE?” Merl asked, in alarm.
“On television,” replied the astronaut. “They dumped their space junk far away from anyone. That was the whole point. IS the whole point. We deorbit satellites there now.” MaryLiz cut to the chase for Merl and the crew. “live
Merl asked, “We’re looking for maybe one or two antique Cold War Russian space probes. Probably partially melted on uncontrolled re-entry. What are the odds?”
This time it was Ric’s turn to speak. “We know the ocean floor better now than formerly.