Brande had been aware of his own attraction toward Penny Glenn, but not of any overt interest on her part. He didn’t know what Thomas had detected, but he had long known that women have very sophisticated sonar when it came to detecting hidden sensitivities. If he could harness and direct that power, he’d make a few billion dollars.
Hanging his sweaters over his left arm, he moved around the bunk to stand in front of her. “Don’t worry about that which doesn’t require worrying, Rae.”
“Penny Glenn requires worrying.”
“Wrong.”
She shook her head. “There’s something strange about her. I don’t like it.”
“There’s something strange about everyone, Rae. People who go swimming in cold water, for instance.”
She didn’t respond to his attempt at humor.
Brande leaned forward, caught her chin in his right hand, and kissed her lips.
There was heat there, but he was afraid it was based in anger. She responded briefly to the kiss, but not with what he would call whole-hearted abandon.
“I’ve got to go.”
“I’ll be watching,” she said, suggesting today and the future.
They left the cabin together, went through the bridge, descended to the main deck, and entered the lab. Emry and Polodka had set up the control center at the first computer terminal. Four video monitors mounted on the bulkhead above the console were displaying blank pictures, waiting for digital input from the submersible. Emry could pick and choose among the data he wished to display. On the primary monitor in front of the keyboard, Emry’s map of the area was shown. He would update it during the dive, adding the features picked up by the cameras or other sensors.
A smaller screen next to the primary would monitor the operational telemetry signals broadcast from the sub. The readings included depth, altitude above the seabed, direction, attitude, speed, and interior and exterior temperatures. The life support systems, including battery charges, were also tracked, and in fact, were displayed in red letters while the rest of the data was in blue.
“Good luck, Dane,” Polodka said.
“Don’t break anything, please, legs or machines,” Emry added.
“Count on it.”
The stern door of the laboratory was open, and they passed through it to the aft deck, where almost every soul aboard seemed to be gathered, milling more or less purposely around the tall form of the submersible.
Dokey had the portable scaffolding in place next to the sub. “Come on, Chief. Kim and Bob are already aboard.”
“You’re getting awfully pushy.”
“The sooner you’re gone, the sooner you’re back, and the sooner I’m gone.”
“Linear logic,” Brande accused.
“The only kind, when we’re dealing with my time. I like the sweatshirt, by the way.”
“You would.”
Thomas squeezed his hand once, and then Brande climbed the scaffolding and eased his legs over the sail. He squatted and handed his sweaters down through the hatch to Otsuka. Standing again, he looked to see that Paco Suarez was handling the winch controls.
Dokey released the wheel brakes and pulled the scaffold aside.
“Kick us overboard, Paco.”
“Si, jefe,” Suarez said, and started drawing the lift cable taut.
The sub lifted off of her rails, and Dokey released the line snubbed to the bow. Below him, Brande could hear Mayberry talking to Sorenson on the UHF radio, testing that surface communications link.
When he had a couple feet of clearance, Paco began to ease the yoke backward. The sub drifted away from the deck, and Dokey signaled the winch operator when the submarine’s bow was clear of the decking. The sub started her descent toward the sea. While the twin hulls gave some protection to either side, Brande saw that the waves were still high, crashing into the hulls, sending spray upward. He tasted salt on his tongue, and droplets of water splashed on his face and clothing. As expected, it was cold water.
The heavy sub settled into the sea, going ever lower, until there was barely a foot of hull showing in the brief seconds when a wave wasn’t crashing over it. Brande made certain that the lift hook disengaged, then waved at those on the deck, and dropped through the hatch. He did that carefully, to avoid the thick coating of grease around the perimeter of the hatchway that was used to guarantee a tight seal.
Pulling the hatch cover closed behind him, he dogged it down and watched for the green LED (Light-Emitting Diode) that told him he had a perfect seal.
He was standing on the backs of the left and right canvas-covered seats, and he turned himself in the tight space and settled into the left seat. As pilot, Otsuka was in the right seat, and Bob Mayberry, the systems monitor, was in the single back seat, which was turned ninety degrees to those in the forward location.
Mayberry and Otsuka both had headsets in place, and the pilot was following Sorenson’s directions as she backed away from the mother ship.
The sub tilted and rolled in the wave action, and though she was as high on the surface as she could be, the portholes in front of Brande were below sea level, showing him only a roiling vision of green-tinged water. Though there was little to see, it was a clear view at this level.
Mayberry handed him a towel, and he dabbed at the spots on his jumpsuit and sweatshirt where he had been splashed. He pulled on the headset hanging from his control panel.
“Larry, you there?”
“Five by five, Dane,” Emry said.
“Let’s go over to Loudspeaker.”
“Going.”
Brande gave a thumb’s up to Mayberry, who switched the communications channel to the acoustic system. Loudspeaker had been developed by a Russian oceanographer named Pyotr Rastonov — a friend of Valeri Dankelov’s — and the technology boasted of the ability to transfer, not only voice, but digitized signals for the telemetry on acoustic wavelengths. All of DepthFinder’s transmitted data now utilized Loudspeaker, and one of the projects underway in San Diego involved using the technology for robotic control, to eliminate the need for tethered cables. Marine Visions had obtained the Loudspeaker design in exchange for the designs of a robotic arm and a couple of software packages.
When he came back, Emry’s voice carried the echo that was characteristic of the system. “You got me, Chief?”
“Got you. We’re starting down, so we’d appreciate it if you deployed Sarscan.”
“I think I’ll do that.”
Under their command protocol, the mission commander — Emry at this point — made the final decisions. While Brande was in charge of the submersible, Emry was in control of the overall dive. It was never as clear as that, of course, and decisions usually evolved as compromises.
Overhead, the deck crews would be lifting the sonar search vehicle from her cradle and lowering her into the sea. She was attached to DepthFinder by a two hundred-foot cable, and the submersible would tow her to the bottom.
A few minutes later, Emry reported, “She’s all yours, Dane.”
“Roger. We’re a complete set.”
“Are we ready, Dane?” Otsuka asked him.
He scanned the instrument panels, seeing all of the familiar readouts sending him a “Go,” message.
“Take us down, Kim.”
She didn’t actually have a choice. While standard submarines changed depth by taking on or ejecting seawater ballast, that process did not work for deep-diving submersibles because of the enormous pressures involved. DepthFinder did have a couple small ballast tanks, for changing altitude a few feet or controlling rates of descent and ascent, but her high-technology method of submerging involved tying lead weights to the bottom of her keel.
In two cavities on the underside of the hull — which appeared something like a tri-hull, the weights were held in place until it was time to ascend, then they were jettisoned on the bottom. Brande had once had an iffy time on the bottom when one of the weights got hung up and refused to drop off. He finally freed it by using a robot.