“Good trip, sir?”

“Fine.”

“Need to go, sir?”

“I’ve just arrived,” Norman said.

“No, I mean: do you need to use the head, sir.”

“No,” Norman said.

“Good. Don’t use the heads, they’re all backed up.”

“All right.”

“Plumbing’s been screwed up since last night. We’re working on the problem and hope to have it solved soon.” He peered at Norman. “We have a lot of women on board at the moment, sir.”

“I see,” Norman said.

“There’s a chemical john if you need it, sir.”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“In that case, Captain Barnes wants to see you at once, sir.”

“I’d like to call my family.”

“You can mention that to Captain Barnes, sir.”

They ducked through a door, moving out of the hot sun into a fluorescent-lit hallway. It was much cooler. “Air conditioning hasn’t gone out lately,” the officer said. “At least that’s something.”

“Does the air conditioning go out often?”

“Only when it’s hot.”

Through another door, and into a large workroom: metal walls, racks of tools, acetylene torches spraying sparks as workmen hunched over metal pontoons and pieces of intricate machinery, cables snaking over the floor. “We do ROV repairs here,” the officer said, shouting over the din. “Most of the heavy work is done on the tenders. We just do some of the electronics here. We go this way, sir.”

Through another door, down another corridor, and into a wide, low-ceilinged room crammed with video monitors. A half-dozen technicians sat in shadowy half-darkness before the color screens. Norman paused to look.

“This is where we monitor the ROV’s,” the officer said. “We’ve got three or four robots down on the bottom at any given time. Plus the MSB’s and the FD’s, of course.”

Norman heard the crackle and hiss of radio communications, soft fragments of words he couldn’t make out. On one screen he saw a diver walking on the bottom. The diver was standing in harsh artificial light, wearing a kind of suit Norman had never seen, heavy blue cloth and a brightyellow helmet sculpted in an odd shape.