Waddling through the ankle-deep silt, the five Jym suits clumsily moved along the bed of the ocean. Thankfully, their underwater armor was in good condition, batteries fully charged, air tanks at max, the DeCamp joints flexing freely, and the heaters toasty warm, although the insides did smell of old beer and sour sweat like a locker room after a game. Operating at the bottom of the sea, the runners had six hours to find some place to recharge both, or die. The suits weighed a good ton apiece and there was no way even magic could float them to the surface. Which gave them only one option.