Then he added, "You realize you n-light as well be hunting one particular fish in ten thousand square kilometers of sea. It could take you a lifetime."
"No," said Pitt confidently. "Twenty hours on the outside."
Rojas was a pragmatic man. Wishful thinking was foreign to him. He looked at Giordino and Gunn, expecting to see skepticism mirrored in their eyes. Instead, he saw only complete agreement.
"Surely, you can't believe such a fanciful time schedule?" he asked.
Giordino held up a hand and casually studied his fingernails. "If experience is any judge," he replied placidly, "Dirk has overestimated."
Exactly fourteen hours and forty-two minutes after the Uruguayan army helicopter set them on the landing pad of the Sounder, they found a shipwreck matching the Lady Flamborough's dimensions in 1,020 meters of water.
On the discovery pass the target showed up as a tiny dark speck on a flat plain below the continental slope. As the Sounder moved in closer, the sonar operator decreased the recording range until the shadowy image of a ship became a discernible shape.
The Sounder did not carry the five-million-dollar viewing system Pitt and Giordino had enjoyed on the Polar Explorer. No color video cameras were mounted on the trailing sonar sensor. The mission of her oceanographic scientists was purely to map large sections of the sea bottom. Her electronic gear was designed for distance and not closeup detail of manmade sunken objects.
"Same configuration all right," said Gunn. "Pretty vague. Could be my imagination but she appears to have a sweptback funnel on her stern superstructure. Her sides look high and straight. She's sitting upright, no more than a ten-degree list."
Giordino held back. "We'll have to get cameras on her to make a positive ID."
Pitt said nothing. He kept watching the sonar recording long after the target slipped behind the Sounder's stern. any hope of finding his father alive was draining away. He felt as though he was staring at a coffin as dirt was being thrown on the lid.
"Nice going, pal," Giordino said to him. "You laid us right on the dime."
"How did you know where to look?" asked Frank Stewart, skipper of the Sounder.
"I gambled the Lady Flamborough didn't change her heading after crossing the inside path of the General Bravo," Pitt explained. "And since she wasn't spotted by search aircraft beyond the outside course of the Cabo Gallegos, I decided the best place to concentrate our search was on a track extending east from her last-known heading as shown by the Landsat."
"In short, a narrow corridor running between the General Bravo and the Cabo Gallegos, " said Giordino.
"that about sums it up," Pitt acknowledged.
Gunn looked at him. "I'm sorry it's not an occasion to celebrate. "
"Do you want to send down an ROV?"* asked Stewart.
"We can save time," answered Pitt, "by skipping a remote camera survey and going direct to a manned probe. Also, the submersible's manipulator arms may be useful if we need to lift anything from the wreck."
"The crew can have the Deep Rover ready to descend in half an hour,"
said Stewart. "You going to act as operator?"
Pitt nodded. "I'll take her down."
"At a thousand meters, you'll be right at the edge of its depth rating."
"Not to worry," said Rudi Gunn. "The Deep Rover has a four-to-one safety factor at that depth."
"I'd sooner go over Niagara Falls in a Volkswagen," said the Captain,
"than go down a thousand meters in a plastic bubble."
Stewart, narrow-shouldered, with slicked-down burnt-toast-brown hair, looked like a small-town feed-store merchant and scoutmaster. A seasoned seaman, he could swim but was leery of the deep and refused to learn to dive. He catered to the scientists' requests and whims concerning their oceanographic projects as in any business/client relation 'Remote Operated Vehicle; tetherrd, underwater viewing system.
ship. But the ship operation was his domain, and any aca demic type who played Long John Silver with his crew was cut off at the knees in short order.
"That plastic bubble," said Pitt, "is an acrylic sphere over twelve centimeters thick."
"I'm happy to sit on deck in the sunshine and wave goodbye to anyone who takes the plunge in that contraption," Stewart muttered as he walked through the door.
"I like him," said Giordino moodily. "Utterly lacking in savoir faire, but I like him."
"You two have something in common," Pitt said, grinning.
Gunn froze an image of the wreck on videotape from the sonar recording and studied it thoughtfully. He slid his glasses over his forehead and refocused his eyes. "The hull looks intact. No sign of breakup. Why in hell did she sink?"
"Better yet," mused Giordino, "why no flotsam?"
Pitt stared at the blurred image too. "Remember the Cyclops? She was lost without a trace too."
"How can we forget her?" Giordino groaned. "We still carry the scars."
Gunn looked up at him. "In all fairness, you can't compare a poorly laden ship built around the turn of the century with a modern cruise liner carrying a thousand built-in safety features.
"No storm put her down there," said Pitt.
"Maybe a rogue wave?"
"Or maybe some sand kicker blew her bottom out," said Giordino.
"We'll know soon enough," Pitt said quietly. "In another two hours we'll be sitting on her main deck."
The Deep Rover looked like she'd be more at home orbiting space than cruising the depths of the ocean. She had a shape only a Martian could love. The 240-centimeter sphere was divided by a large O-ring and sat on rectangular pods that held the 120-volt batteries. All sorts of strange appendages sprouted from behind the sphere: thrusters and motors, oxygen cylinders, carbon dioxide removal canisters, docking mechanism, camera systems, scanning sonar unit. But it was the manipulators that extended in the front that would have made any self-respecting robot green with envy. Simply de bed, Vaey were mechanical arms and hands with a canny way of doing everything flesh and bone could do, and then some. A sensory feedback system made it possible to control the hand and arm movements to within thousandths of a centimeter, while force feedback allowed the hands to delicately hold a cup and saucer or grab and lift an iron stove.
Pitt and Giordino patiently circled the Deep Rover while she was fussed over by a pair of engineers. She sat on a cradle inside a cavernous chamber called the "moon pool." The platform holding her cradle was part of the Sounder's hull and could be lowered twenty feet into the sea.
One of the engineers finally nodded. "She's ready when you are."
Pitt slapped Giordino on the back. "After you."
"Okay, i'll handle the manipulators and cameras," he said jovially. "You drive, only mind the rush-hour traffic."
"You tell him," yelled Stewart from an overhead balcony, his voice echoing inside the chamber. "Bring it back in one piece and I'll give you a great big kiss."
"Me too?" Giordino yelled back, going along with the joke.
"You too. ',
"Can I take out my dentures?"
"Take out anything you want."