"Still building," came the reply. "But we've got a leak somewhere, Mr. Hall. We're getting readings from the water down there. Not too much yet, but it may change our time factor. I'd either get on it fast, chief, or let's get outta here. That thing can go any minute now."
The tractor was rigged. Hall turned and bawled, "Where are those divers?"
Alec Patterson and Troy Braden stepped out of a nearby van, dressed in pressure suits and tanks, their helmet flaps open. Alec had a heavy belt of ultra-high explosive plastic lashed around his midsection. Troy carried a rack of small clamps strung across his shoulders.
"Where do you think you two are going?" Hall roared. "Get those suits off and get outta here."
"Shut up and listen," Alec snarled. "I started this. I'll finish it. This idiot partner of mine hasn't got any better sense than to go along. We haven't time to argue, so just listen.
"Both of us have been trained in hydrology and have made many dives before. We've both used this plastic and we've both handled hot stuff, probably more than any of your people. Your man has checked us out on the pump assembly and we know just what we're looking for. Let's go."
Hall glared at the pair for a second and then whirled to the rigged tractor. "Get that canopy off that thing," he ordered. "They can ride it down in the seat."
He turned back to the junior engineers. "Got lights?" They both indicated a pair of sealed handbeams on their belts. "All right, get aboard."
"Casey," Hall called over the intercom, "got that communications line rigged?"
"All set, boss," came the answer. "It will run out the cable and down the cab. I've left them plenty of slack to move around when they get down there."