“We should get this box there soon,” Gamay said. “I'll stabilize it in seawater as best I can.” She glanced with longing at the box. “Damn! Now I'm really curious about the contents.”

“How about running it through the X-ray machine in the infirmary?” Austin suggested. “That might partially satisfy your curiosity.”

Gamay carefully replaced the box in the bucket, and the technician carried it off. “You're brilliant,” she said.

“You may not think so after you hear my next idea,” Austin replied. He outlined his plan.

“Worth a try,” Atwood said, and clicked on his hand radio. Before long the screen flickered into life and the moon pool appeared again. The ROV was being put back into the water. The dive was a repeat of the first, with the diver, bubbling foam and dark water.

Gunn put the ROV on a direct trajectory to the wreck. Before long, the vehicle was coming from behind the ship. Gunn worked the joystick, and the mechanical arm unfolded and extended to where it could clearly be seen in the glare of the halogen lights. Watching Gamay clean the artifact had given Austin the idea. Clasped in the metal claw was a metal-bristled brush used in preparing the Argo's hull for painting.

The ROV made several attempts to clear away the barnacles. Newton's law of action-causing-reaction kicked in, and the brushing pushed the ROV away from the hull. The ship did not want to give up its identity without a fight. After forty-five minutes, they had succeeded in clearing away a patch about a foot in diameter. A portion of a letter embossed in white was visible. It could have been an O or any of several other letters.

“So much for brilliant ideas,” Austin said.

Gunn was equally frustrated. His forehead glistened with beads of perspiration. He'd been trying to counteract the push by revving up the ROV's thrusters. At one point, he lost control and the ROV slammed into the hull. A layer of gunk a couple of feet across dropped off to reveal an S.

“There's concretion under the marine growth,” Gamay said. “That's why you can't brush the stuff away.”

“Can you bang off another chunk?” Austin asked. He turned to the captain. “With your permission, of course.”

Atwood shrugged. “Hell, I'm as curious about this old hulk as you are. If it takes a few dents in a piece of NUMA equipment to do the job, let's do it.”

His face flushed as he remembered that NUMA's second-in-command was sitting at the controls. But Gunn had no compunctions. He gritted his teeth and rammed the ship again and again, as if he were trying to break down a castle door. Pieces of thin brittle concretion began to flake off, to reveal more letters. After one sharp jab, a huge piece of the covering dropped off to reveal the ship's name in Cyrillic letters.