by M. D. Cooper
His arms shifted again.
Martin caught a glimpse of the seabed, but then the gap was filled by a large octopus eye. The rounded rectangular pupil focused on him.
The thick arms writhed off of the transparent surface of the submersible, and Martin regained control of the vessel.
Xavier was bobbing on the seabed, his large tentacles outstretched and his mantle flopping lazily to one side. His buddies also revealed themselves, altering their coloration so they no longer looked like pebbles or shells or any other part of the ocean floor. Martin had rarely seen so many all at once. Most of the species in the order Octopoda were solitary. He guessed that it must have been quite an effort for them to come together to create the garden. Perhaps it was their unusual proximity to each other that was sparking their aberrant behavior. Or maybe they were like intelligent kids with too much time on their hands.
A vision of seventy thousand more octopuses roaming the marine safari park, pouncing on visitors, holding them hostage, demanding to be taught how to be sarcastic, sprang into Martin’s mind.
He pushed the images away. Most of the larvae would be eaten. He hoped most of the larvae would be eaten. He returned his attention to the job at hand.
The octopuses’ coloring began to darken, and one or two reared up, stretching out their legs like tent poles.
Whoops. These creatures are so sensitive. He added quickly,
The octopuses relaxed, and their coloring paled to their normal hues.
Martin said,
said Xavier.
Martin heard Eamon’s chuckle as he turned the submersible around and left the garden. He didn’t know if the octopuses would hold to their promise, but he’d done his best.
* * * * *
On his way back to the labs, he took a quick tour of the site. Most of the attractions were nearing completion. The massive dome that housed the deep-sea creatures was finished and only awaiting pressurization, then he and Lindsey would deliver the organisms they’d nurtured at the lab.
At the ocean shelf, Martin finally caught a glimpse of a plesiosaur. The young creature was already terrifyingly large; it would give the visitors a real buzz. He continued on to the gigantic whirlpool. It was fully operational. Margot and Pietr had ridden it several times and begged to have two or three more turns each, even though it had been clear it was working fine.
Martin left the sea mammals area out of his tour, knowing that he would be tempted to spend far too much time with the engaging animals.
He was passing near the sinkhole, which had been transformed into the formal entrance to the underwater cave system. He guided his submersible into the dark depths. His approach triggered concealed lighting to turn on, illuminating the jagged gap in the wall that led into the caves. He’d been too busy up until then to check inside and see the work Pietr had managed to find time for.
The technician’s background in underwater cave diving had made him the ideal person to grow and furnish the caves with suitable species. Martin saw albino shrimp and other crustaceans, as well as blind fish and eyeless eels. In one spot, transparent crabs swarmed over some unidentifiable remains.
The caves were definitely the place for visitors with a taste for the morbid and macabre. The place wasn’t his cup of tea, but at least its existence meant that the safari park really had something to offer everyone.
Lindsey broke into Martin’s thoughts.
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.
The tech would create a hotel, Lindsey explained. The picotech 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 swum 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. He found it hard to talk to her when she’d been so uncaring and disloyal after the drill.
If she would only realize that 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 the drill 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 pos
ition. 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 guard 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.
