“It’s a red three-spoke wheel, wrapped in yellow sealant tape,” I said.

“It’s hidden behind the main electrical distribution panel, near the floor plates.”

“If we turn it, does it vent the tanks back to the surface?” he asked.

“It cuts the pneumatic lines entirely,” I said. “It will freeze the valves in their current position.”

“That stops the sinking, but it keeps the crew trapped,” Hayes noted.

“It buys us time,” I said. “If the boat sinks to the bottom of the slip, the pressure will crush the forward bulkhead.”

“The hull has a weak weld in the ballast tanks. Turner knows it.”

Hayes nodded once, his jaw set in a hard line.

“Stay on the deck,” he said. “If the ship rolls, jump for the pier.”

“I’m coming with you,” I said. “You don’t know how to release the locking collar.”

“It’s too dangerous, Mitchell,” he said. “You’re a civilian.”

“I designed the collar, Hayes,” I said, stepping past him toward the hatch.

“You’ll strip the threads if you try to force it.”

The water was up to our shins now, pulling at our legs with a steady, freezing current.