“Because the security doors are locked from the inside,” Miller said.

“The contractor’s team is already downloading the telemetry from the main console.”

Hayes looked at me, his expression grim under the red emergency lights.

“We need to get to the bridge,” Hayes said.

“I designed the security overrides, but they won’t work if the main computer is isolated,” I said.

“We have to cut the physical power to the communications suite.”

“Where is the breaker?” Hayes asked.

“In the forward passageway, right outside the radio shack,” I said.

Hayes shoved Miller against the bulkhead, securing his hands with a pair of plastic zip-ties from his gear pocket.

“Stay here,” Hayes told the lieutenant.

Miller didn’t answer, his head slumping forward against his chest.

Hayes turned to me, his flashlight beam cutting through the damp mist in the corridor.

“Lead the way, Doctor,” he said.

We waded back through the auxiliary space, the water now reaching our thighs.

Every step was an effort against the drag of the freezing pool.

The smell of fuel oil and burnt insulation was growing thicker in the air.