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"The Empress was a twin-screw vessel," said Heidi softly. "The one on the port side was salvaged in nineteen hundred and sixty-eight.
Pitt turned to Hoker. "Come up fifty feet and travel forward along the starboard boat deck."
Deep beneath their feet the little sub obeyed its impulse commands and swam over the stern railing, narrowly missing the staff that had once flown the ensign of the Empress' home port.
"The aft mast is down," Pitt said in a monotone. "The rigging appears to be gone."
Then the boat deck came into view. A few of the davits hung empty, but some still held steel lifeboats frozen for eternity in their chocks. The ventilators stood in silent agony, their buff colored paint long flaked away, but the two funnels had vanished, fallen decades before into the silt.
No one spoke for a few minutes. It was as though they could somehow reach into the past and sense the hundreds of frightened men, women and children milling the decks in confusion, helplessly feeling the ship sink beneath them with terrible swiftness.
Heidi's heart began to pound against her breast. There was a morbid aura about the scene. Seaweed, clinging to the rust eaten hulk, swayed eerily to and fro with the current. She shivered involuntarily and clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling. Finally Pitt broke the silence. "Take it inside."
Hoker took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the nape of his neck.
"The
two upper decks have collapsed," he murmured as if conversing in a church. "We can't penetrate."
Pitt spread the ship's interior drawings on a chart table and traced a line with his finger. "Drop down to the lower promenade deck. The first-class lobby entrance should be clear."
"Is Baby actually going to enter the ship?" Heidi asked.
"That's what it was designed for," replied Pitt.
"All those people dead in there. Somehow it almost seems sacrilegious."
"Men have been diving on the Empress for half a century," Gunn said gently, as though talking to a child.
"The,museum at Rimouski is filled with artifacts taken from inside the wreck. Besides, it's imperative to see what we'll be up against when we begin cutting through-"
"I have penetration," Hoker interrupted.
"Take it slow," Pitt acknowledged. "The wooden ceilings have probably fallen and clogged the passageways."
For the next few seconds only the floating particles in the water showed on the monitors. Then the RSV's light source fell on a fan-shaped stairway. The curled lines of the banisters were still evident, held erect by sagging support columns. The Persian carpeting that had once graced the lower landing had long since rotted away, as had the chairs and sofas. "I think I can negotiate the aft passageway," said Hoker.
"Make entry," Pitt instructed tersely.
The stateroom doorways marched by the cameras in wraithlike procession as the RSV threaded its way through the fallen rubble. After thirty feet the passageway looked clear and they made an inspection of a cabin. The luxurious comfort for which the ill-fated ship was famous had deteriorated into pitiful scraps.
The spacious bunk-style beds and ornate dressers had long ago surrendered to the ravages of the callous waters.
The journey into time passed with agonizing slowness. It took nearly two hours for the RSV to break into a lounge area. "Where are we?" asked Gunn.
Pitt consulted the drawings again. "We should be coming on the entrance of the main dining saloon."
"Yes, there it is," Heidi pointed excitedly. "The large doorway to the right of the screen."
Pitt looked at Gunn. "It's worth checking out. According to the plans, Shields' cabin lies on the deck directly below."
The lights of the RSV played over the huge room, casting phantom shadows beyond the columns that supported the remains of the sculptured ceilings above the dining alcoves. Only the oval mirrors on the walls, their glass coated with decades of slime, bore mute testimony to the opulent decor that had once enhanced the passengers' dining pleasure.
Suddenly there was a movement on the fringe of the light beams. "What in hell is that?" blurted Gunn.
Spellbound, everyone in the control room started at the etheric cloud that floated into camera range.
For long moment it seemed to hover, the outer edges vague and wavering in slow motion. Then, as if encased within a milky translucent shroud, a human form reached out for the RSV, an indistinct, disembodied form like two photographic negatives overlaying one another and producing a double exposure.
