“RUSS weighs in at well over a thousand pounds,” Patty explained, reading his mind.
“Lotta weight for a little guy.”
“There has to be, considering the kind of pressure he’s subjected to in depths like the Marianas. It has something to do with weight displacement and pressure per cubic inch. RUSS’s hull is so dense, he can resist the pressure up to virtually any depth. And he’s powered by a special fuel cell that allows for extended journeys in the depths without having to recharge.”
“So we lower him into the water …”
“And I drive him robotically from up here and hope he finds whatever it is you’re looking for.”
Patty dropped the Runaway’s anchor and, with McCracken looking on, activated the hydraulic mechanism which slowly eased the submersible toward the gunwale and then lowered it into the sea. The flip of a final switch released RUSS into the water and he sank slowly, almost gratefully, like a fish tossed back after being snared.
The last of his miniature conning tower was still visible when McCracken watched Patty grasp a portable instrument panel complete with four multi-directional levers surrounding a center joystick.
“This is how I drive him,” she explained.
“Looks simple.”
“Because it is. Fully transistorized and, of course, waterproof.”
Patty eased the joystick forward and Blaine could see RUSS level out just beneath the surface. A light touch on one of the four levers and it began its descent straight down into the deep blue of the water. Fortunately RUSS possessed cameras aiming both straight above and straight below to insure it never missed anything.
“It’ll be between twenty and twenty-five minutes before he reaches the swell in the ocean floor we’re over. Here, let me show you the rest of the setup.”
They moved toward a canopied section of the deck nearest the cabin, and Patty took a chair behind what looked to be a combination computer monitor and television screen. Closer inspection revealed it to be both; the screen was atop the monitor and joined to it by a host of wires running like spaghetti through the rear panels. Patty began typing commands into the keyboard before her and instantly the screens jumped to life.
“I drive RUSS but it’s the computer that talks to him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, this kind of exploration has reached new heights — perhaps I should say depths — technologically. Can you see the picture forming on the television screen?”
McCracken leaned forward until the glare was minimized. “Looks like a big swimming pool.”
“The biggest. We’re seeing exactly what RUSS sees as he drops further and further down. Assume he finds … whatever it is you’re looking for.”
“I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
“Assume he finds it anyway. Not only do we get pictures, but thanks to the computer we get measurements, structural analyses, even infrared dating to get a general idea how old the find is. We can also use the computer to have RUSS focus his camera in close on anything we choose. That usually comes in especially handy when …”
Patty Hunsecker continued to expound on the various capabilities and virtues of the RUSS system. RUSS and other submersibles like it were no doubt on the verge of opening up whole new, never-before-seen worlds and lowering the risk to human life substantially in the process. After she was finished, they spent the next few minutes watching the screen that pictured exactly what RUSS saw as he sank into the depths.
“I notice the picture isn’t getting any darker even though he’s sinking lower and lower.”
“Very good,” Patty complimented. “I might make a scientist out of you yet. That’s something I neglected to explain. RUSS’s seeing eye automatically adjusts the light exposure to give us a consistent look. Any darker and we wouldn’t be able to see a thing. Too much light and the contrast would make accurate identification difficult.”
“Where is he?”
Patty punched a few keys on her terminal. Figures danced about the screen almost instantly.
“I’m getting confused readings. Too many echoes, too many—”
She stopped when a beeping sound started up. Blaine was unable to pin down exactly which of the machines it was coming from.
“What is it?”
“His vertical sensors, elaborate sonar actually, have locked on to something.”
“What?”
“School of fish probably….”
The beeping sound became more rapid. Patty checked the figures running wildly across her monitor.
“Well, it’s no school of fish, and it seems to be centered almost directly on the underwater rise he’s coming down on. Looks like we’re about to find what you dragged me out here for, McCracken.”
Blaine’s head was almost against hers as they gazed at the television screen. His heart picked up its pace. Something dread and cold grabbed him from within, telling him he didn’t really want to know what RUSS was about to find. The beeping became maddening and Patty turned a switch to lower the decibel level. When it became constant, she flipped another of the levers on the transistorized board on her left and brought RUSS to a dead stop in the water.
“Christ, he must be right over it! Your coordinates were right on the mark.”
“You were expecting any different?”
“I didn’t know what to expect, but I’ll tell you this much: for an object to remain totally anchored on the bottom, it’s got to carry a lot of bulk and weight.”
Patty flipped a few buttons and the picture sharpened in view. There was a shape barely discernible in the darkness. Patty gave it as much brightness as she could, and Blaine immediately made out a huge ship’s tower, something from a heavy cruiser or battleship maybe. His first thought was that he was at the wrong coordinates. Otherwise they had come all this way just to find another relic from World War II.
Patty used the joystick to maneuver RUSS closer to and over the vessel that was still gaining shape.
“What is it?” she asked Blaine.
“Some sort of warship,” McCracken confirmed to himself. “Heavy cruiser class, I think. Had their heyday in World War II and haven’t seen much of the seas since. Time passed them by.”
“Well, it looks pretty much intact. Wait, spoke too soon. Take a look at this,” Patty said, and slowed RUSS over the starboard side forward beneath a huge gun turret. She maneuvered the joystick to drop RUSS low and back him away from the ship’s hull to provide a more complete view of what they had uncovered through the front-mounted camera.
“Christ, what the hell did that?”
McCracken saw the jagged holes in the ship’s starboard hull but didn’t reply. He felt a growing realization of what they had found here but pushed it back, terrified of the consequences it might imply.
“Wake up, McCracken! I asked you what the hell did that?”
“Torpedoes,” he said finally. “You can tell by the angle of entry and blast radius. Those babies carried a rather precise signature.”
“This ship was sunk in World War II?”
McCracken’s response was to move closer to the monitor screen. “Take RUSS forward to her bow. Let’s see if we can read her name.”
She turned back toward him before maneuvering the joystick. “You know what this ship is, don’t you?”
“I don’t know anything. Not yet.”
She shrugged him off and started to work the red, ball-topped handle to bring RUSS forward along the length of the dead cruiser.
“My God, could any bodies still be inside?”
“Judging by the position of the holes that sunk her, I’d say the great majority of those on board got off alive.”