“And you do not?”
Brande shrugged. “Anything is possible, I suppose. In the same situation, however, I wouldn’t turn down any offers of help.”
Dankelov nodded. “Nor would I. We will need the assistance of everyone with capability. Where is the United States Navy robot, now?”
“According to Avery Hampstead, it has arrived in San Diego and is being mated with new cable. They’ll fly it out to the Kane tomorrow or the next day.”
“And the Sea Lion?”
“Aboard the Timofey Ol’yantsev. They’ll beat us to the site,” Brande said. “Do you know the man in charge of the Sea Lion?”
“Gennadi Drozdov was the leader of the Barents Sea expedition. And Pyotr Rastonov was the primary operator of the submersible. They may still be with it.”
“I know the names, though I’ve not met them. Are they capable?”
“Quite capable. I think Gennadi Drozdov is a master oceanographer.”
“Why don’t we call him?” Brande suggested.
“Call him?”
“While your and my governments are banging on each other’s front doors, you and I could see if someone left the kitchen door open.”
Dankelov nodded his head in agreement. “We will try.”
They got up and went forward to the bridge, then crammed themselves into the crowded communications compartment. Bucky Sanders spent a great deal of time, utilizing a satellite relay, before he found a frequency that the Ol’yantsev would answer.
There was a long pause while the radio operator went looking for someone of importance.
Taking the microphone, Dankelov spoke in Russian. “Timofey Ol’yantsev, this is Orion.”
“Yes. Proceed, Orion.”
The man’s speech carried a Ukrainian overtone.
“I am Valeri Yurievich Dankelov. I am a Russian citizen performing scientific duties aboard this research vessel. I wish to speak to Gennadi Drozdov.”
“This is Captain Leonid Talebov. I have heard kind words about your work, Comrade Dankelov.”
The ʻcomradeʼ form of address was rapidly disappearing, passé, out of date. Dankelov was surprised to hear it from the captain.
“Thank you, Captain. Gennadi Drozdov?”
There was another long pause.
“Comrade Dankelov, if you will monitor this frequency, I will talk to you later in the day.”
The carrier wave indicated the transmission had been broken off.
Brande, leaning against the door frame, looked at Dankelov, his eyebrow raised in question.
“Drozdov is aboard the ship, I believe,” Dankelov told him. “But our radio call has raised questions of policy.”
Kaylene Thomas left the wardroom, climbed the companionway to the bridge, said hello to Kenji Nagasaka who was tending the helm, and went back to the communications compartment on the starboard side.
It had started out as a fairly good-size space, but it was now cramped. Over time, it had been outfitted with electronic components that could be, and were, mind-boggling. The radios spanned the spectrum from low frequency to high frequency to very high frequency. There were satellite communications transmitters and receivers, ship-to-shore sets and acoustic transceivers. Recording decks and a computer. Compact disk players for spreading Brande’s version of muzak throughout the ship. Telex. Facsimile machines. And some of the navigation system black boxes which would take up too much room in the chart/sonar/radar compartment, opposite the radio shack, had been stacked against the back bulkhead.
Sometimes, Thomas thought Brande was like a little kid in a well-stocked hobby shop. He kept buying all the toys and models in sight. And not once, but twice. He could not slight the Gemini. If Orion got a new system, so did the Caribbean ship.
Paco Suarez was seated at the console. He was a Mexican national attending USC, majoring in communications electronics, and Mel Sorenson had taken him on for a four-month internship. He had been one of the first to raise his hand when Sorenson asked for volunteers for this voyage.
“Paco, I need to make a call.”
He climbed out of his padded chair. “Si! Senõrita Thomas.ˮ
‘‘What’s this? I’m still Kaylene.”
“Ah, no, senõrita. You are now presidente.ˮ
“Believe me, Paco, I’m still Kaylene.”
Still, she was not certain. As the word spread through the ship, she had detected slight differences in the way people reacted to her. There was nothing overt, but there was a subtle difference. She suspected that the scientists had more confidence in her than did the ship’s crew. They might be fearful of changes, or just of a woman in a leadership position. So what else was new in the world?
Suarez went out to the bridge, and Thomas surveyed the numbers jotted on a goosenecked clipboard attached to the radio panel. She found the number for the operations room at Pearl Harbor Naval Base, picked up a handset, dialed 6, then dialed the number.
The call was answered on the first ring. She identified herself and asked for Avery Hampstead.
He picked up right away. “Hello, Kaylene! I’m glad to hear from you.”
“Hi, Avery.”
“I can see you on our big board here. You’re a yellow blip. Moving right along, too.”
“Mel is pushing her at top turns,” she agreed. “Avery, the reason I’m calling is that I need a memorandum of understanding from you.”
“You do?”
“I do. I realize that this operation isn’t the typical one, where we respond to requests for proposals and you select the low bidder, but you chose us for this, and I want something in writing.”
“Uh, yes. Well, sometimes Dane and I are a little informal, I agree. Is Dane handy?”
“He’s busy. Besides, Avery, I’m now president of Marine Visions.”
The hesitation was only momentary, but it was there. “I offer my congratulations, Kaylene. Iʼm sure you’ll do very well.”
“Thank you. In the meantime, about that memo…”
“You aren’t going to hold me up, are you?”
“Avery.”
“Well, I mean, given the situation…”
“I’m just covering my costs.”
“I don’t have a lot of discretionary money, Kaylene.”
“You just got your appropriation for the fiscal year,” she insisted.
“Still, there’s not a lot of leeway. Dane and I were going to work…”
“I want to help out as much as we can, you know that. Still, I’m taking my job seriously, and I’m not about to let us founder. Do you have a pen or pencil?”
“Got it”
“Start date, September first. The Orion and crew, forty-five hundred a day. Professional personnel, seven thousand a day. Equi…”
“Seven thousand!”
“We have every one of our top people aboard, Avery. You wanted the best, and you’ve got it.”
“Seven thousand?”
“That’s right. Specialized equipment — that’s the ROVs — two thousand a day. Miscellaneous, not to exceed fifteen thousand for the project.”
“Jesus, Kaylene. What’s in miscellaneous?”
“You just wait, Avery. I’d give odds that the Navy is going to charge us for their C-130, for flotation equipment, and for parachutes.”
“Ah, come on. This is an emergency.”
“But it’s an emergency run by computers. Everyone charges off their costs these days. We’re not going to be any different than anyone else.”
“Thirteen-five a day.”
“Plus the miscellaneous. I’d like the memo faxed to me as soon as possible.”