In Emry’s absence, Bucky Sanders was handling the temporary chart. It was a large nautical chart of the search area, covered with plastic, and angled against the wall from the top of the workbench. Until the DepthFinder was brought aboard for crew and battery changes, and the recorder tapes could be recovered, significant findings were reported orally over the acoustic telephone, and Sanders indicated them on the chart with magic markers. When the recorded data was dumped to computer memory and replayed, it would be entered into the more permanent computer files.
The temporary chart was developed just in case the submersible was never recovered. It was a doomsday policy, but necessary just the same.
A separate video display terminal, controlled by a keyboard in front of Polodka, showed the current status of the submersible. Its time below, battery charges, equipment function levels and other data were listed in neat rows. At the top of the list was the current depth in feet. Otsuka automatically glanced at it: -17,782.
The submersible was on a heading of 090 degrees, due east on her second eastward pass since arriving. They were a third of a mile north of the impact point on this leg, after having run a westward leg a third of a mile south.
Bucky Sanders, wearing a headset so he could hear more clearly, was charting a small ridge that ran parallel to the submersible’s course. The peak of a dormant volcano had been pinpointed a mile to the north at 15,000 feet of depth. A dotted line running south had been labeled as the course of the Sea Lion. The Americans and the Soviets were moving at right angles to each other. Some things did not change, Otsuka thought.
Among the people gathered around Polodka were Brande and Thomas, and Dokey let go of her to slip into the crowd and tap both of them on the shoulder.
They turned to follow Dokey, and he took her hand as he passed, headed for the aft end of the laboratory.
“What did you find out about Kim’s passport status?” Dokey asked.
“The last time I talked to Hampstead,” Thomas said, “he told me that Washington had declined to interfere.”
“Those bastards can start wars, but they can’t even manage a little diplomatic bullying,” Dokey said.
“Okey…” Otsuka started to say.
“What’s up?” Brande asked.
“Her consulate just called to tell her that her passport has been revoked. We are to disembark her on the Eastern Flower.ˮ
“Bullshit!” Brande said.
Thomas’s face reddened, and she said, “All right. Let’s give them the program.”
“No, you must not,” Otsuka said.
“Have we heard anything about the Flower?” Brande asked.
“I was given the coordinates,” Otsuka said, “but the ship is not yet operating. The submersible is ready, but the sonar robot is malfunctioning. That is why they want the programming.”
“They’ve come to the show, but can’t perform,” Dokey said. “Well, fuck’em.”
“Can you contact them directly?” Brande asked.
“By radio or telephone.”
“Come on, let’s go find a private line.”
Brande led the way this time, and the four of them went forward to the wardroom and settled into the last booth.
Brande handed her the phone. “Make the call and the translations, would you, Kim?”
She spoke to Paco, who was manning the radio shack, and he made the connection with the Eastern Flower. After a short exchange, she found herself speaking in Japanese to a man named Inouye who claimed he was the expedition leader.
“Tell him we’re prepared to license the robot programming,” Brande said.
She passed it on, then told Brande, “He wants to know the cost.”
“So do I,” Dokey said. “Ream them out, Chief.”
“The cost is the immediate restoration of Kim’s passport and the requirement that the Eastern Flower report to, and follow the orders of, the RV Kane for the duration of the search.”
“Get two million bucks, too,” Dokey said.
“Amen,” Thomas added.
“No,” Brande told them.
Otsuka let her eyes widen as she repeated Brande’s demand in Japanese.
The response was short.
“The cost is too high.”
“That’s it, Kim. Tell him all or nothing.”
She translated, then waited.
And waited.
Finally.
“They agree,” she said, feeling the relief wash over her. Dokey took her free hand and squeezed it.
“As soon as we have word from your consulate that your passport has been restored, and as soon as we receive a telex confirming the arrangements, you can transmit the program to them,” Brande told her.
“Thank you, Dane.”
“We’ve got more important things to do than worry about money,” he said. “Right, Rae?”
She grimaced, but said, “Right.”
Otsuka relayed the instructions on to Inouye.
Dokey said, “Can I call the Kane and tell them we’ve forced a surrender?”
“Go ahead,” Thomas said. “Cartwright will be glad to hear from you.”
“Don’t be profane, please,” Otsuka told Dokey.
“Well, hell, hon, you’re talking all the fun out of it. And we didn’t even reach our next defensive position.”
“What was that?” she asked.
“We could have had olʼ Mel marry us.”
She looked up at him. “What? You don’t mean that?”
“Scout’s honor. Supreme sacrifice, and all that.”
From the look on Brande’s face, Otsuka was certain that Brande was also unsure about how serious Dokey was.
And Thomas’s face was immobile. Kaylene was trying to be so inscrutable since she had begun sleeping with Brande.
The DepthFinder was aboard for a crew and battery change, and Brande was aft in the laboratory. He, Otsuka, and Connie Alvarez-Sorenson — who had only made one previous dive — would crew the next stint.
Thomas was in the wardroom with the last of the lunch-break crowd. She was making a chocolate malt last. For some reason, on expeditions, but never ashore, she always got a craving for chocolate malted milk, and she stocked the galley accordingly.
Ingrid Roskens came out of the galley with a steaming cup of cocoa. “Hey, Kaylene!”
“Hi, Ingrid. Welcome back.”
“It was a breeze.”
“You look tired”
“I am tired. I was going to ask if I could use our cabin, but I guess it’s free until Dane gets back, right?” She winked at Thomas.
“Ingrid!”
“Ta ta, sweetie.” Roskens headed for the door.
Carrying her tall glass, she picked up her plate and silverware and returned them to the galley. She was about to leave the lounge and go check on Brande — was her silliness showing to everyone? — when she saw Dokey stretched lengthwise on one bench of the first booth. He was reading.
She crossed the wardroom and slid into the bench opposite him, placing her glass on the table.
He looked up, “Hi, Kaylene.”
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to get through all of the material Miriam Baker gave me for homework.”
“Sounds fascinating.”
“Actually, it’s not too bad. Some good stuff here.”