"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."
"You call that an incentive?" Pitt said dryly. He was grateful to the Captain for trying to take his mind off what they might find. "I m
ay make a beeline for Africa rather than come back here."
"You'll need an extra truckload of oxygen," said Stewart.
Gunn walked up, oblivious to the good-natured exchange, a pair of earphones clamped to his head with the cable dangling at his leg.
He tried to keep his instructions businesslike, but compassion crept into his voice. "I'll be monitoring your audio locator beacon and communications. Soon as you see bottom, make a
three-hundred-and-sixty-degree sweep until your sonar picks out the wreck. Then give me your heading. I expect you to keep me informed every step of the way."
Pitt shook Gunn's hand. "We'll stay in touch."
Gunn stared up at his old friend bleakly. "You sure you wouldn't rather stay topside and let me go down?"