One is ahead of the other, and passes close enough to FILL FRAME, looking like a spacecraft blazing with lights, bristling with insectile manipulators.
TILTING DOWN to follow it as it descends away into the limitless
blackness below. Soon they are fireflies, then stars, then gone.
CUT TO:
INSIDE, it is a cramped seven foot sphere, crammed with equipment.
ANATOLY MIKAILAVICH, the sub's pilot, sits hunched over his controls... singing softly in Russian.
Next to him on one side is BROCK LOVETT. He�s in his late forties, deeply tanned, and likes to wear his Nomex suit unzipped to show the gold from famous
shipwrecks covering his gray chesthair. He is a wiley, fast-talking treasure hunter, a salvage superstar who is part historian, part adventurer and part vacuum cleaner salesman. Right now, he is propped up against the Co2 scrubber fast asleep and snoring.
On the other side, crammed into the remaining space is a bearded wide-body
named LEWIS BODINE, who is also asleep. Lewis is am R.O.V.
(REMOTELY OPERATED VEHICLE) pilot and is the resident Titanic
expert.
Anatoly glances at the bottom sonar and makes a ballast adjustment.
CUT TO:
CUT TO:
5
MINUTES LATER: THE TWO SUBS skim over the sea floor to the sound of sidescan sonar and the THRUM of big thrusters.