Chapter 7: The Voss Line Descent

Orset's submersible smelled like mildew and old machine oil and something sweeter underneath that Karev couldn't place until he was two meters inside the hull — silicone sealant, freshly applied to the forward viewport gasket. Recent work. He ran his thumb along the inner edge of the porthole frame and the sealant came off tacky, still curing.

"Patched it this morning," Orset said from behind him, without being asked. He was a compact man in his fifties with the particular stillness of someone who had spent decades in small spaces, and he watched Karev's thumb with the expression of a craftsman waiting for a verdict.

"With what compound?"