by M. D. Cooper
Martin had left the cave and was piloting the submersible up through the sinkhole.
A memory flashed into Martin’s mind. When he’d first met Erin, she’d been constructing the SATC near his old beach house. Then one day, he’d woken up to find that the construction site was a mess and Erin was gone. That must have been what she’d been about to tell them at breakfast the morning after the invasion drill.
< ‘Oh’ what?> Lindsey asked.
It was something, but he didn’t want to talk about Erin with Lindsey. The lingering memory of that painful argument was enough.
* * * * *
Lindsey, Margot, and Pietr had taken the Torpedo out to the place where the picotech would first be deployed. Martin joined them in his single-seater.
Lindsey explained that the tech would create a hotel, and would even create the air to fill it and all the lines and connections to serve the facility with everything it required.
The security detail was approaching in an armored amphibious vehicle, flanked by single submersibles carrying more personnel. Several armed divers were already in place. Martin could see what Lindsey had meant when she’d called the security ‘phenomenal’. For one small module of technology, it seemed like overkill. Then he remembered the aftermath of the attack at the SATC site on Landfall.
Perhaps it isn’t overkill after all.
Martin looked up at the water’s surface half-expecting to see hostile forces swooping down from above to attempt to snatch the tech, but the skies were clear.
The module was in place.
Martin powered his submersible another ten meters away from the innocent-looking box on the seabed. The security teams also backed off.
The guards and defensive submersibles were facing outward, away from the device. A boat hull crossed overhead, casting a shadow.
The next time Martin’s gaze returned to the picotech module, it had disappeared, and a building was already appearing from the sand. A flat, hard surface spread out, the seabed transforming into straight lines before his eyes. At the edges of what seemed to be the hotel’s roof, sand-dwelling creatures were swarming, piling up and over each other, crawling and being pushed away. The creatures were tangled in marine plants and organic debris from the sea floor. Everything was being steadily shunted away by the burgeoning structure.
Martin agreed. It was certainly a sight to behold.
The hotel roof was rising as the pico converted the sand, water, and whatever other non-organic particles it contacted into walls, windows, and the interior of the hotel. Martin guessed that below the hotel, the technology was also creating the supporting structures and services.
A shoal of surgeonfish swam over, curiosity apparently driving them to inspect this strange, new structure rapidly appearing near their home. The fish bumped their noses on the hotel as it expanded and met them. They swam away unharmed.
Martin admired the picotech guard detail’s self-discipline in the way they didn’t give into temptation to watch the pico in action, but kept their gazes focused outward.
The sea creatures so rudely displaced by the hotel had turned into a rout and a riot. Local predators had finally noticed them and swam over quickly, their tails flicking in excitement at the unexpected bounty. The fish began to feed on the exposed sand-dwellers. The poor creatures hastily tried to rebury themselves.
Some would be successful, Martin knew. They would soon breed and replace the victims of the pico’s deployment.
He checked the time. The pico had been working for twelve minutes, and the hotel was already nearly complete. Inside, water was draining out of it, the level visibly dropping at the windows. The building continued to inch upward, but the rate was slowing. The bare outer walls began to sprout decorative garnishes. Sculpted outlines of sharks, dolphins, crabs, octopuses, and jellyfish appeared. The outlines of doors materialized, and through the windows, Martin saw inbuilt cupboards emerge in the rooms.
The ability of the picotech to create so much so fast was almost magical.
said Lindsey.
What had been seabed and water a few minutes previously was now a complete hotel. Carnivorous fish continued to feast at its edges, but the process had ceased.
The security crews retrieved the module and began moving away, the divers tagging onto the submersibles for a ride. The boat overhead turned toward Ithaca’s seaport.
Lindsey said,
Martin felt the same as Lindsey. He’d always thought building inanimate objects was tedious compared to creating new marine life, but the deployment of the pico had been an interesting sight to behold.
It would have been fun to tell Erin about it; she would probably have been interested. But Martin’s annoyance and disappointment in her prevented him from being able to chat casually like she’d done nothing wrong.
If she would only realize how uncaring and disloyal she’d been after the drill and apologize, maybe they could move forward, but so far, she’d shown no signs of thinking that way. If anything, she seemed to be stubbornly clinging to her opinion that Tanis had been right not to cancel it and avoid upsetting Jude and Isa.
Why doesn’t she understand that our family should come first?
He knew his accusation that she didn’t care about Jude had been harsh, but that’s what her statements showed. He’d only been pointing out the
truth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
STELLAR DATE: 05.18.8941 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Heliopolis, Ithaca
REGION: Troy, New Canaan System
Everything was coming together for Myrrdan’s agent. Only one final task needed to be completed, then all would be in place to execute the plan. But time was running out. The picotech was already being deployed at the marine safari park. The window of opportunity had opened, but shortly, it would close.
The agent had considered foregoing the final preparation and reaching immediately for the prize, but sloppiness in earlier attempts had resulted in failure. This time, everything had to be perfect. This chance to steal the tech could be the last; if the agent was captured, it would definitely be the last. That would be a disaster. Death was the inevitable outcome of such haste and, even worse, Myrrdan would not receive the technology that would ensure his place in the galaxy.
Screwing things up was not an option.
As an added precaution against identification and exposure, the agent had changed hotels and checked in under a fictitious name. The new place was not so luxurious or well-equipped as his former residence. The agent wished to attract no attention, so the downmarket establishment was ideal. It was also a convenient place to execute the remaining mind control that was needed for the plan’s preparation to be flawless.
The colonel in command of Troy’s ISF garrison received the usual protection awarded to the position. Whenever the man was on duty, he worked in military establishments, accompanied by his own personal guards. However, Troy was not a dangerous place, despite the disquiet that the agent had carefully sown in its population, so when Colonel Barton wasn’t on duty, the security around him was kept to a minimum. And
even colonels need downtime.
Through infiltrating the private communications network of the general and his connections, the agent had discovered that the man liked to visit a particular bar. The saloon just so happened to be situated along the same street as the agent’s new hotel, and the agent had spent many evenings there, hoping for a chance encounter with the colonel. Unfortunately, the agent had never crossed paths with him.
Time still remained for executing the final mind control that would ensure the plan’s success, however, so the agent was spending yet another evening at the bar, silently drinking, watching, and ruminating.
The door opened for the twentieth time that evening, and for the twentieth time, the agent checked his probe’s feeds hopefully. This time, the reward came.
The agent almost didn’t recognize the colonel at first. He looked so different out of uniform—younger, and very ordinary compared to the imposing figure he usually cut. But Colonel Barton had shed his official persona and come out to drink and shoot pool with his buddies.
As soon as he’d confirmed the man’s identification, the agent quickly looked away. In spite of appearances, the general had to be accompanied by at least one or two guards in civvies, and they would be watching for unusual behavior. That was fine. The agent didn’t need to kill the colonel, only touch him.
A servitor was already trundling toward Colonel Barton and his companions at the nearest pool table, bearing their drinks. The agent watched the situation by looking in the mirror at the back of the bar.
It was almost too easy, yet jumping the gun could ruin everything. Patience was needed.
Counting the time passing in heartbeats, the agent waited. Approaching the colonel too soon would create suspicion.
Let the group drink and loosen up a little. Give them time to let their hair down.
A half hour later, when the servitor approached the group with a second round, the agent decided the moment to strike had come. The colonel’s friends and the man himself had paused their game to hand around the new drinks. The agent got up casually and walked toward the pool table. It was in the perfect position, directly along the route between the bar and the restroom. No one would think his movement strange.
The colonel had picked up his cue again and was lining up a shot. The agent made sure to weave a little, as if slightly drunk. It would make what was about to happen more plausible. Drunks didn’t look where they were going.
The agent slowed down, trying to get the timing right. Barton moved backward, readying himself to get down in his stance and take his shot at the ball.
Yes!
He backed right into the agent, who was passing behind him. It was superb. The colonel actually apologized as the mind control was being put into effect. Mumbling something in response, the agent moved on.
Each stage of preparation had been completed. Long weeks of work were over. Now the theft could go ahead.
Soon, certain areas of the marine park would be open to visitors. The organizers were calling it a ‘soft opening’. The agent had already secured a ticket and would be one of the first visitors. Once inside, reaching the site where the picotech was to be deployed would not be difficult, and tools were already in place to aid the plan.
In ordinary circumstances, the security around the module would be impenetrable, but the agent had created extraordinary circumstances. Troy was now in a state of turbulence and unrest. Everyone was on tenterhooks. When the theft took place, an event would occur simultaneously that would distract and confuse the security forces. Perhaps the effect would only last an hour or two, but that was all the agent required. A brutally effective attack, a credible distraction that no one would suspect, a speedy getaway, and the job would be done.
The diversion would throw Troy into such turmoil that departing the planet undetected should not be a problem. Then it would only be a matter of escaping New Canaan.
The moment to strike had nearly arrived.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
STELLAR DATE: 05.20.8941 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Marine Park, Ithaca
REGION: Troy, New Canaan System
Martin had forbidden Eamon to talk to him about his falling out with Erin, telling him that his personal life was none of the AI’s concern, but the entity residing in Martin’s brain couldn’t resist making the odd pointed comment every now and then.
Martin was in the middle of removing fertilized angler fish eggs from stasis and transferring them to the deep-sea dome when Eamon said,
Martin gritted his teeth as he eased the package of fertilized eggs carefully into the pressurized portal. Once inside the dome, the angler fish embryos would develop and eventually hatch. Most of the baby fish would be eaten by predators, but that was the natural cycle of life. A few would survive and grow into the large females and comparatively small males, who, at sexual maturity, would follow the path Eamon had outlined.
The fish would be an interesting exhibit for visitors, their transparent forms illuminated by lighting in wavelengths that would not disturb the other deep-sea creatures. Angler fish were only part of the fascinating attraction. Martin had already introduced many species, including frilled sharks, silica sponges, sorceress eels, fangtooths, and some giant tube worms—which were already feeding from the hydrogen sulfide vent that Lindsey had asked Tony to create before he left Troy.
The marine safari park was only days from its ‘soft opening’ to select visitors, and everything was going well.
If only the same could be said for my private life, he mused.
Eamon’s sly little comments weren’t helping.
Martin gritted his teeth some more. Things were bad at home. Erin was
barely speaking to him, and Isa was sad and depressed because the atmosphere was so terrible, so she was hardly speaking either. Martin knew they both blamed him. They were ganging up on him.
Martin ignored Eamon’s nudging, but couldn’t help thinking, Is he against me now, too?
He closed the portal and set the mechanism to propel the eggs out into the pressurized dome. The accelerated growth genes he’d included in their DNA meant the angler fish would be visible in a couple of weeks, in plenty of time for the park’s formal opening.
Martin hoped that Tanis Richards wouldn’t screw that one up too with one of her stupid drills.
Why can’t she do her job and protect the system like she’s supposed to?
He was a biologist, not a Marine. When he’d joined the Intrepid, he hadn’t expected to find himself in the middle of a galactic power struggle, and neither had the rest of the passengers. The governor was asking a lot from everyone.
Why she hadn’t destroyed the picotech long ago, he didn’t know. Possessing it only put everyone in danger. He wasn’t sure it was even worth it.
And if we are invaded, won’t the attackers just steal the tech and leave? What are the chances the scenarios that played out in the drills would actually happen? Martin thought.
