CHAPTER 42
Sheldon leaned over Ann’s left shoulder. “How’s it coming?”
Ann stopped typing, her fingers frozen in midair above the keyboard of her laptop. “Sheldon, if you ask me that question one more time, I’m going to duct tape your mouth shut.”
“I just want to help,” Sheldon said.
“Go away,” Ann said. “Stop asking me questions. That will help a
“You’re absolutely sure that there’s nothing I can do?”
Ann leaned back and crossed her arms. “Am I
She pretended to study the matter for several seconds and then shrugged in apparent contrition. “I guess I’m not totally-positively-
She held a fingertip against her lower lip. “Let’s see … This an entirely new mission profile for Mouse. He’s got to perform some specialized functions that aren’t built into his core program, so you should probably start by dumping the mission package I created for the submersible rescue, and purging the robot’s scratch memory and persistent memory. When that’s finished, upload a clean copy of the core program from the master disc packs, and sort through the mission library for the modules that most closely match the functions Mouse is going to need. Then, append those files to his core program, and modify any parameters that need adjustment. Don’t forget to load the program mods for covert search, and under ice operations, and don’t forget to disable his acoustic communications module. You’ll also need to load the bottom contour database for the operating area, the navigation data, and the environmental package, including currents, known navigation hazards, projected salinity profiles, and thermal structures of the water column. And when you’re done, run an end-to-end, and a loop-back test, and debug to check for errors.”
She smiled with exaggerated sweetness. “If you’re going to take care of all that, I’ll go grab a cup of coffee and a Danish.”
“I get the picture,” Sheldon said. “I don’t know how to do any of the stuff you need to accomplish.”
Ann gasped in mock surprise. “You don’t?”
Her fingers starting pecking away at the laptop again. “Then will you
“Yeah,” Sheldon said. “I’m sorry.”
Ann stopped typing again. “I’m jerking your chain, Sheldon. I’ve already done all that junk. I just need to run one last program integrity test, to check for disagrees and resource conflicts, and then I’m done here.”
She tapped a key and leaned back. “There. That should take that about ten minutes to cycle. When it’s finished, as long as there aren’t any errors, our buddy Mouse should be ready to go play in the water.”
She checked her watch. “That’s pretty good timing. The Navy boys tell me that the sun will be setting in about fifteen minutes. Since we’re doing all this sneaking stealth business under cover of darkness, that works out just about perfectly.”
Ann stood up and stretched to get the kinks out of her back. “Come on, Cowboy. If you absolutely must help, you can lead me through this metal labyrinth to the wardroom. I really
An hour later, Sheldon and Ann stood with a bunch of Sailor types on the boat deck, bundled up in heavy foul weather coats, and stomping their feet to keep warm. The sun was down now, and the moon wouldn’t rise for several hours yet. The darkness was broken only by the stars and the dim glow of amber-lensed deck lamps, cranked down to minimal intensity.
Mouse hung beneath the boat davit, a dark silhouette dangling at the end of the lifting cable for the destroyer’s Rigid-Hulled Inflatable Boats.
That particular bit of engineering had been Ann’s idea. At her suggestion, the robot’s lifting hardware had been made compatible with the single-point boat davits used aboard Navy warships. Any ship that carried RHIBs could launch and recover a Mouse unit without installing special equipment. From the Navy’s perspective, that made Mouse cheaper to buy and easier to integrate into the fleet, which — by extension — made it more likely that the Lords of Navy Procurement would decide to purchase lots of Mouse-series underwater robots from Norton Deep Water Systems.
As far as the company was concerned, the Navy procurement contract was the whole point of the Mouse project. Ann’s priorities were quite different, but they still came back to the bottom line. The Navy was Norton’s best customer. If the Navy didn’t buy underwater robots, then Norton would have no reason to build them. And if Norton didn’t build underwater robots, then Ann would have to either abandon her chosen profession, or go to work for Big Oil. And that was
Ann might not care for the military yahoos, but at least they thought they were doing the right thing. They were well-intentioned, if misguided. Those planet-killing bastards in the oil industry … they were a whole different breed of bad news. There were no good intentions in them at all: just mindless greed, with no thought to long-term consequence.
Ann looked up at the shadowy form of the disk-shaped robot hanging from the end of the boat davit. Norton had provided the funding, and the engineers, and the facilities, but Ann had breathed life into the strange little machine. Mouse was the culmination of her very best ideas, and the product of the hardest work she had ever done.
She exhaled sharply, the freezing Siberian air turning her breath to vapor in front of her face. She had poured her soul into this project. No way would she do that for the oil companies. Never.
Ann felt a jarring thump through the soles of her feet, followed by a prolonged scraping noise and a groaning of metal that she felt more than heard. The ship seemed to shudder until the groaning died away.
She looked at the nearest Sailor. “What the hell was
“Probably a growler,” the man said.
“A
“A growler,” the Sailor said. “A chunk of sea ice. Smaller than an iceberg, or a bergy bit. Maybe the size of a refrigerator.”
“There are chunks of ice out here the size of refrigerators?” Ann asked. “And they’re not freaking icebergs?”
“That’s right,” the man said.
Ann couldn’t see his face properly in the darkness, but the Sailor had an older voice. He was probably one of the senior petty officers, or maybe a chief.
“We’re transiting through the Kuril islands,” he said. “Passing into the Sea of Okhotsk, which is mostly covered by ice. The plan is to skirt the southern edge of the ice pack. As long as we don’t get too close to the pack edge, we’ll mostly run into grease ice. That’s usually just slush — not fully frozen. We’ll get some growlers too, about like the one we just rubbed up against. If we’re lucky, we won’t run into any bergy bits.”
“What are those?” Sheldon asked.
“Baby icebergs,” the Sailor said. “Maybe the size of a house. Not big enough to qualify as real icebergs. You don’t get real bergs in the Sea of O.”
Ann’s mouth felt suddenly dry. She nodded, though the man probably couldn’t see her in the darkness. “No icebergs,” she said. “That’s good to know. At least we don’t have to worry about sinking.”
The man laughed, but there didn’t seem to be a lot of humor in it. “I didn’t
“Please tell me you’re joking,” Sheldon said.
