UAAG CH88

Salvage projects at sea are mostly dedicated to recovering sunken ships.

Since the Age of Sail, countless ships have sunk into the ocean. Even in modern times, shipwrecks are not rare. Salvage companies are experienced and skilled in salvaging ships, not planes. However, there isn’t much difference between a plane and a ship; sometimes, a plane is even easier to salvage than a ship.

“The McFly F485, this aircraft is 64.1 meters long. According to the 3D acoustic scan performed by sonar, it’s confirmed that the plane broke into two sections, one about 47 meters and the other about 17 meters. If it were just salvaging a 47-meter-long piece of aircraft wreckage from a depth of 33 meters, the difficulty wouldn’t be great; it would only require time and money.” Lawrence analyzed the situation seriously. “But the problem is, beneath this bay lies a rather large reef area.”

Lawrence pointed at the black-and-white image generated by the sonar scan, his expression grave.

Everyone also looked closely at the sonar image.

When planes or ships sink into the sea, they don’t just rest directly on the seabed, visible to the naked eye. Often, they pass through thick layers of sediment, sinking bit by bit, eventually enveloped by mud and sand, resting in endless darkness.

Rogue 318 was no exception. It lay quietly in the seabed sediment, surrounded on all four sides by soft sand. But above it, as if a cliff had grown sideways, a large expanse of reef suddenly blocked the way, looming over Rogue 318.

Logically speaking, if Rogue 318 had sunk from directly above, it should have landed on this reef, not in the sediment layer beneath it. Yet, it had somehow passed through this reef that blocked the sediment and burrowed into the sand.

Old Joseph: “Ocean currents are truly too miraculous. Even if humans wanted to manually stuff this massive plane under the reef, I’m afraid it would be very difficult to achieve.”

Yes, it would be hard for humans to do this, but nature had done it.

Lawrence sighed and looked at Zhuo Huan with a serious gaze. “So, Reid, what should we do? I’ve transported the world’s most advanced salvage equipment here, but I can’t guarantee they will work.”

Zhuo Huan stared quietly at the computer screen, at that blurry and complex image. After a while, he turned to Lina and said, “Help me contact Robert Gatsby, Stephen Keskin, Joanna Douglas…” He rattled off a dozen English names and one Chinese name, then paused at the end and added, “And Tsunai Teiichi.”

The news that Rogue 318 was seeing the light of day again had just been reported by the news media, spreading across the globe and attracting widespread attention from people all over the world. Just three days later, at UAAG’s press conference, they were informed of cruel news—

The difficulty of salvaging Rogue 318 was extremely high. It would probably take three months, half a year, or even longer to completely salvage it from the seabed.

World-renowned shipwreck salvage experts, as well as many physicists, were invited to participate in the salvage plan for Rogue 318.

Currently, common shipwreck salvage methods mainly include the pontoon method, the floating crane method, and the chain salvage method. Among them, chain salvage is suitable for shipwrecks with large tonnage, short length, and not very deep water, which seemed perfect for salvaging Rogue 318. But the problem was that Rogue 318 was blocked by a reef. If the chain salvage method were used simply, it would very likely damage the aircraft’s structure.

Regarding this, Zhuo Huan made a unified decision: “Use the pontoon method.”

To salvage Rogue 318 completely intact, the pontoon method must be used. The method didn’t sound difficult; it involved building a huge box on the seabed to encase the plane wreckage along with the surrounding sediment and reef completely inside this box. Then, nearly a hundred hook locks would be used to lift this box directly, pulling the plane up together with the surrounding sand and rocks.

But the problem was, this was 33 meters underwater.

Any accident could happen.

While everyone was busy dealing with the overwhelming workload, looking up various materials for salvaging Rogue 318, Su Fei found Zhuo Huan. The punk teenager looked solemn and said, “Get the black box up first.”

As soon as these words fell, Zhuo Huan looked up at him.

After a long while, Zhuo Huan hummed softly, “Hmm?”

Su Fei said seriously, “In 2009, Air France Flight 447 crashed into the Atlantic Ocean. It wasn’t until 2011, two years later, that the French Bureau of Enquiry and Analysis for Civil Aviation Safety found its wreckage on the seabed 3,000 meters underwater. At 3,000 meters underwater, it was impossible to salvage the plane, but they eventually recovered two black boxes. In an air crash investigation, the most critical thing is the black box. Get it up first.”

Zhuo Huan didn’t speak.

After a few seconds, the punk teenager complained, “Hey, I’m talking serious business with you, RIP. Give a reaction.”

Zhuo Huan looked at him calmly. “Do you know why Fu Cheng isn’t here?”

Su Fei was stunned. “Huh?”

Zhuo Huan: “How many days has it been since you saw him?”

With this reminder, Su Fei realized, “Right, I haven’t seen Brother Fu for four or five days. What did he go do?”

Zhuo Huan raised his eyes and glanced at him, then lowered his gaze to his own fingertips. He gently twirled his pen and said lightly, “He went to fish up the black box for you.”

Su Fei: “…”

Holy shit?!

Su Fei never expected that Fu Cheng, as a former air force pilot, could actually go diving to retrieve a black box!

However, let alone him, even Fu Cheng didn’t know he had such a skill before this.

What Su Fei thought of, Zhuo Huan had thought of from the beginning.

33 meters. This was an incredibly merciful depth.

Human divers could directly reach this location to explore the plane itself. But because Rogue 318 was surrounded by sediment, this exploration work wasn’t smooth.

Unlike Air France 447, which was buried 3,000 meters under the sea where humans couldn’t possibly reach and had to be salvaged by machines in the end, the water depth of Rogue 318 was only 33 meters. Divers could directly detach the black box from the plane and even carry it back.

There was no need to specifically have Fu Cheng undergo training and make a dive.

But Fu Cheng voluntarily made this request.

First, he used to be an air force pilot; his physical fitness even surpassed that of many divers. He was fully capable of diving work, needing only some diving training. Second, he understood this plane better than any diver. His understanding of the McFly F485 might not be as good as Zhuo Huan’s, but it was definitely deeper than Old Joseph, Su Fei, and the others.

Over the past five years, he had consulted materials on the McFly F485 countless times. Every basic data point, its performance specifications—all the information he could find, he had flipped through over and over again late at night, taking every word to heart.

So a week ago, Fu Cheng said to Zhuo Huan, “If any accident happens during the salvage of the plane and damages the wreckage, it might destroy the investigation evidence.”

Zhuo Huan: “Let the divers take cameras underwater to take pictures.”

Fu Cheng: “That’s the seabed. There’s no light, taking pictures is difficult, and it will definitely be very slow.”

Zhuo Huan looked at him steadily, slowly raising an eyebrow. “So?”

Fu Cheng looked back firmly. “I’ll go down. I’ll bring the black box out; that’s just the simplest task. What’s truly important is for me to see if there are any problems with this plane. I’ll be your eyes. Apart from you, no one here understands this plane better than I do. If there’s anything unusual about it, I’ll be the one to know best.”

Thus, Fu Cheng began diving training. What he had to do was not only bring back the black box but also see with his own eyes this plane sunk at the bottom of the sea.

December 3, 2021. The biting wind blew; winter in Unalaska came suddenly. Overnight, the temperature dropped by five degrees. It snowed by the sea. A speedboat set sail from the pier and arrived at the salvage site of Rogue 318 half an hour later.

The small boat stopped in the middle of the sea, bobbing up and down with the waves.

On the deck, Fu Cheng put on his diving suit, carrying the air hose, emergency gas cylinder, and waist weights. After checking all the equipment, he exchanged a glance with the diver beside him.

Under the bright sunlight, four divers wearing diving suits and equipped with full gear put on lightweight helmets and masks. They pushed off hard with their legs against the ship’s rail, drawing long arcs in the air. Amidst the rumbling vibration of machinery, four figures jumped into the sea, diving downward bit by bit.

This diving mission was led by Mr. Nikolai from the salvage company. He used to be an extremely excellent diver with years of experience in diving salvage.

The moment he jumped into the sea, the surrounding noise suddenly disappeared.

With a buzz.

The world went quiet.

Fu Cheng was dazed for a moment, but soon Mr. Nikolai’s voice came through his communication phone. He composed himself and dove downward with the other three divers.

A depth of 33 meters was insignificant to these divers. Soon, perhaps only a few minutes, maybe a dozen minutes, they passed through the reef area and arrived at the sediment layer.

In the darkness, the lights on their helmets were on, illuminating each other’s faces.

The four took out professional tools and began deep diving.

Breaking through the soft sediment layer, they went down continuously, further down.

In the pitch-black deep sea, Fu Cheng heard what sounded like someone breathing low in the air hose. It was his own breathing; a thin tube contained all his sounds. There were no other noises; in the phone, Mr. Nikolai didn’t speak either.

Wherever the lights on their heads shone, that place was lit up.

They were like deep-sea anglerfish, swimming silently in the suffocating darkness, listening to their own slow and powerful heartbeats.

Fu Cheng’s heart gradually calmed down. He hadn’t seen Rogue 318 yet, but judging by the descent distance, they were almost there.

His gaze searched everywhere in this darkness. His heartbeat seemed to speed up, his breathing gradually became rapid, and his back was tight.

“Hey, I found it. Come over quickly.”

A diver’s shout came from the phone. Fu Cheng abruptly turned his head to look at the person who spoke. It was a brown-haired American lad. He confirmed he had found the plane wreckage, so he turned on the portable light he carried and shone it beside him.

“Look at it!”

His heart was beating at its fastest, his body felt gripped by a powerful force, and his breathing was about to stop.

Fu Cheng raised his head to look at the place illuminated by the light.

In the gloomy deep sea, where the water rippled, a massive and eerie giant structure floated silently amidst the sediment. It looked like a towering castle, standing solemnly. The light only illuminated one corner of it; at the edge of the light lay its massive body hidden in the seawater.

A name rang in everyone’s heart.

Rogue 318.

…

The moment he saw it, Fu Cheng suddenly felt calm.

There was no intense grief as imagined, nor the sadness he thought there would be. He was extremely composed, even beyond his own imagination. He took a deep look at the plane, then lowered his head to turn on the communication phone, saying word by word, “Confirmed to be Rogue 318. Commencing search for the black box. Over.”

The McFly F485 is currently one of the world’s largest wide-body civil airliners. If one wanted to find its black box on land, the difficulty wouldn’t be great; Fu Cheng could remove its black box in ten minutes. But this was under the sea.

After searching for four consecutive days, on the fifth day, Fu Cheng finally brought it back from under the sea.

Having finally completed the first phase of the mission, the divers lay on the deck, cheering and whistling. Fu Cheng also lay on the cold deck, unable to hide the joy in his heart. Only when he had rested enough did he stand up and walk toward the orange-red black box.

At this moment, Fu Cheng didn’t know that an old familiar friend had arrived at the temporary salvage headquarters established on Unalaska.

Zhuo Huan was holding a video conference with Professor Robert, Tsunai Teiichi, and others when Lina knocked on his door.

Zhuo Huan frowned impatiently. “What is it?”

Lina smiled helplessly. “Perhaps you should come out yourself, Reid.”

Zhuo Huan: “Huh?”

Lina shrugged. Just as she was about to speak again, a cold and solemn snort sounded from behind her.

Zhuo Huan’s face darkened.

A white-haired old man walked out from behind Lina. He pushed open the door of the conference room but didn’t enter. Instead, he stood at the doorway, looking at his student from afar.

Thor Rayner: “Reid, where is Rogue 318?”

Zhuo Huan looked at him steadily. After a few seconds, he leaned back against his chair and smiled. “In the sea.”

Mr. Rayner swept a cold glance over him, his voice indifferent and majestic. “We want it.”

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