The process was potentially hazardous too. Certain combinations of hydrogen and chlorine, and hydrogen and oxygen, were explosive, so it was crucially important that none of the gases be allowed to mix within the cell. On the scale proposed, such a mixing would not only destroy the plant but also cause widespread devastation. Yet another problem was that the hydrogen film formed on the anode was corrosive and poisonous, endangering the plant personnel.
To be globally effective it would be necessary to build thousands of large-scale electrolysis plants on coastlines throughout the world where seawater would be processed in billions of gallons, releasing its precious store of oxygen into the atmosphere. Millions of tons annually would have to be produced if they were to achieve a significant change in boosting the oxygen content to the level capable of supporting life.
When Hanamura had finished, dusted the chalk from his hands, and resumed his seat, Chase broached the thorny question: How long before marine trials could commence? He didn't add to the pressure by mentioning Prothero's call; as director it was his duty to shield his people from extramural hassles and financial headaches. What he had to have was a positive commitment: If the money were to run out then the whole enterprise would be a complete and utter waste.
"We've yet to decide on the most efficient cell voltage. At the moment we're testing a range of power requirements." Hanamura stared into space, his high fine cheekbones catching the light. "I'd say a year to eighteen months, providing there are no unforeseen problems."
"But you already have a lab model operating successfully," Chase said, doing his best to sound reasonable. "How do you know that marine trials won't actually help you select the optimum cell voltage? You can carry on the work here in any case while we test the process at sea."
Hanamura glanced toward Carter Reid, his number two, who shook his head dubiously. Hanamura looked at Chase.
"Does that mean you can't or won't?" Chase said.
"It means we're not ready."
"Is there any technical obstacle to prevent us from building a pilot plant and installing it in an oceangoing vessel?"
"No," Hanamura admitted slowly, his handsome face puckered in a frown. "I just don't like the idea of running marine trials until we've ironed out all the bugs."
"I don't like it either, Frank, but we don't have the luxury of choice. How soon?" Chase asked bluntly.
"Maybe six months, and that's working double shifts." Hanamura swept a lock of glossy black hair from his forehead. He was being rushed and didn't like it. "It would mean building one from scratch."
"What about the lab model you already have? Couldn't you adapt that one for marine trials?"
"Come on now," Hanamura protested. "Gavin, be reasonable. We need the lab model here. Anyway, it's too small. The pilot plant would have to be at least four times the capacity."
"Okay, starting tomorrow, what's the absolute minimum, given all the resources we can muster?"
"Cutting it to the bone I'd say three months."
"Right, that gives you till September fifteenth," Chase said briskly. He was satisfied, but he didn't intend to show it. He'd succeeded in bringing Hanamura down from a year to six months to three months, but it would have been a tactical error to ease off now. "What about location? I can have one of the Scripps' research fleet standing by-- choose anywhere within a week's cruising from San Diego."
Hanamura looked at Carter Reid, who shrugged, and then turned to Chase. "Providing it's well clear of the algae blooms, anywhere in the Pacific will do." His dark eyes sparkled angrily for a moment, as if he'd suddenly realized he'd been backed into a corner. But it was too late. He jabbed a finger. "And I want to be there, Gavin, directing the operation personally. If we have to meet this September fifteenth deadline I'm going to make damn sure the trials are conducted properly. Any objections?"
Chase shook his head, smiling sweetly. "None whatsoever."
Cheryl coughed up more of the evil-smelling black stuff and wiped her streaming eyes. She raised her head and caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. Her face was deathly pale and covered in beads of sweat, a faint bluish tinge to her lips. She knew the signs and symptoms, had seen them in others, so there was no point in fooling herself.
Dan hadn't noticed anything, she was certain; he would have come straight out and said something. A lump came into her throat, whether at the thought of Dan or out of self-pity she didn't know. But this wouldn't do, she told herself sternly. He'd know in an instant something was wrong if he saw her like this. She doused her face in cold water and pinched her cheeks to bring the color back.
