Dot’s whale spoof worked perfectly. The drone-mines scattered, flashing in confusion. But one mine clipped the sub’s rudder. Frank The Fang grunted and manually realigned the stabilizers by yanking on a cable with his titanium jaw.
“We did it,” she said.
Once they had the sample, they wouldn’t ascend. They’d descend into the volcanic vent, using the superheated water to create a thermal updraft that would launch The Rusty Nail toward the surface like a cork from a champagne bottle. ocean-s 11