One of the drawbacks, of course, was that if one or the other of the CIS systems failed, with the MVU systems disconnected, all communication between the DepthFinder and the Orion or Sea Lion would be cut off.
With the voice subsystem operational, the trying part had been the hard wire and computer-controlled connections between telemetry and video devices and the acoustic transceivers.
Polodka and Otsuka had loaded the Russian software into the computers, then begun the struggle to work out the quirks. It helped that the Russians used an IBM clone programming language, but the conversion was tedious.
Brande came over again, this time bringing a coffeepot and styrofoam mugs. Otsuka was outside, in the submersible, but the others stopped what they were doing to drink.
Brande said, “No matter what, we’re launching at three o’clock.”
Dankelov nodded his acceptance.
Brande walked away and Drozdov looked after him.
“He is a hard taskmaster, Valeri?”
“No, Gennadi, he is not. There is a lot of pressure now, on all of us.”
As they went back to work — the two of them were refitting an integrated circuit in a signal translator box that Mayberry had concocted — Drozdov asked, “Do you like your work in America?”
“Yes, I like it very much.”
“You are a lucky man, Valeri. I envy you.”
“But I miss my home,” Dankelov said. “Perhaps I will return with you.”
“To what?” Drozdov asked. “There is much chaos.”
“But shouldn’t one be working for one’s own country? There is much to be done, and I feel that I am shirking my responsibility, Gennadi.”
“Does Svetlana feel the same?”
“No. She is happy with what she has. She would like to keep it.”
“I once assumed the two of you would marry.”
“It was not to be,” Dankelov said.
“I know you are serious about our profession, Valeri, but you should not be so serious all of the time.”
“It is my nature.”
“Your nature needs revamping,” Drozdov observed.
For fear it would drift in the wind, the Navy had dropped its package without a parachute ten minutes before. The C-141 transport had come in low out of the overcast, its landing lights brightly illuminated, kicked the bright orange box out of a side door, and then disappeared into the cloud cover as quickly as possible.
Thomas did not blame them for not wanting to stick around.
It took the Orion twenty minutes to chase down the floating box, hook it with a line, and raise it from the sea.
Two crewmen hauled it into the laboratory and broke the seals on the aluminum case.
“Two suits? That’s all?” she said.
“That’s all we need,” Brande said.
“Bullshit! You asked for every suit they could find.”
“Maybe Hawaii isn’t a major candidate for radiation contamination,” Brande told her.
She tried to stare him down.
It did not work.
“I’m going on this dive,” she said.
“No. Just Dokey and me.”
Dokey had been sleeping for the last couple of hours, and Otsuka had gone to waken him.
“You sonovabitch! You can’t stop me.”
“You’re tired, Rae. We don’t want accidents.”
“I’m the damned president!”
Everyone in the lab was watching the exchange, some with amusement.
Most with amusement.
“You need a third-seater,” she said.
“The Loudspeaker is using the third seat. Besides, with video transmission, everyone gets to participate.”
“Don’t pamper me.”
Brande reached out, took her shoulders, and pulled her close to him. Bending over, he whispered in her ear, “I’m supposed to, Rae. I love you.”
She pulled her head back to look in his eyes. “Mean it?”
“Sure do?”
“But no pampering, all right?”
“Agreed.”
“Go, then. Get out of here.”
“Is this what’s known as an executive conference?” Dokey asked, coming through the door with Otsuka.
No one answered him.
“I’m glad I’m not an executive.”
Thomas backed away from Brande, reluctantly pulling from the grasp of his hands, and looked at Dokey. He was wearing a sweatshirt over his jumpsuit featuring a boy turtle in a baseball cap and a girl turtle in blond curls. The caption was, I CAN MAKE IT LAST!
“You’ll never be mistaken for one, Okey,” she told him.
Dankelov stepped forward. “I should go, Dane.”
“No, Valeri, you’ve done what you’re supposed to do,” Brande told him.
Ingrid Roskens said, “You’re going to need a structural person when you find it.”
“That’s why we’ve got video transmission, Ingrid. You get your own CRT.”
Everyone had a last comment or suggestion for Brande and Dokey.
It was almost a wake, Thomas thought. As if they did not expect to see him again. She felt like crying. And laughing. Her emotions capsized, then righted themselves, back and forth.
Brande and Dokey dressed in the radiation-protection suits, pants and overblouses, and carried the hoods with them. They were a silvery gray, shiny material, and gave them a spacey appearance.
Emry opened the door to the afterdeck, and crew members began to file out. They wore yellow slickers and hung onto the lifelines that had been stretched over the deck.
Brande and Dokey tromped out in their oversized suits, astronauts headed for the launch complex.
Thomas wanted to run after Dane, throw her arms around him, and drag him back.
The alarm clock was about to ring.
She might not see him again.
She held onto the door jamb, ignoring the rain and spray splashing her, and watched them gingerly climb the scaffold.
Dane was the last one down the hatch, and he gave her a thumbs-up and a wink.
Then he was gone.
They did not even try to lower from the deck with the hatch open. Brande sealed it and dogged it tight, then slipped down into the left seat. It was dark inside, with only the outside light coming through the three portholes.
The thickness of the pressure hull dampened the sound of the storm, but the fury was noticeable in the tilt and bounce of the sub.
“Well, compadre, here we go.”
“You sure you got enough sleep, Okey?”
“I plan to get another couple hours on the descent. That is, if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Brand said. “Besides, you’re not sleeping.”
“Damn me, I forgot. Got to fly Gargantua.”
The robot was too large to be attached to DepthFinder, and like SARSCAN, would be towed to the bottom.
Together, they powered up the systems. Brande concentrated on environmental systems first, making sure that pressures and blower speeds were acceptable. Oxygen, lithium oxide.
He felt clumsy in the protection suit. Taking the hood from his lap, he stashed it on the floor under his legs.
Turning awkwardly in his seat, he reached back and turned on the new acoustical system. It had a microphone, rather than a telephone, and he parked the mike between his and Dokey’s seats.
With the propulsion systems checked out, and the sonar and gyros activated, Dokey initiated power for the remote-control panel. When he had green LEDs, he turned on the UHF set and contacted Mel Sorenson on deck.