He knows it's just another verbal quirk like kid or son, but Jack finds he likes this one. Chief. Has a nice ring to it.

"It runs great," he says proudly. "I made it steer, look."

He tugs on one of the jury-rigged joysticks. The water in the dock is already choppy, so the movement of the submerged rudders isn't really visible, but if Sinclair peeps inside the bathysphere he'll be able to see the taut rope jerking something around in its depths.

Sorry about the mess, by the way.