by Jack Soren
Lew reached out and touched the glass. To his surprise, it was warm not cold, as he’d expected. He slid his hand over to the triangle’s edges. It was smooth and strong, but definitely not made of concrete or any other building material he’d ever seen. Hugging himself for warmth, he tentatively made his way back to the crate and looked inside.
“What the fuck are you?” Lew said when he saw what was inside. He was just reaching into the crate when a voice made him spin around.
“Help me.”
Ashita
2:10 P.M.
UMI CLIMBED OUT of the submarine, pushing the guards’ hands out of her way. She didn’t need their help, and she resented the fact that they thought she did. Ignoring their apologies, she stepped onto Ashita’s lower docking port. Though she had been there many times before, this time was different. She would never leave this place again.
“Take everything up to my residence. I’m going to the nineteenth floor,” Umi said, making her way toward the tower and the elevators. “Send the sub back to the ship.”
“Where’s Mr. Morgan?” one of the guards asked. Originally, there weren’t supposed to be any further trips between Ashita and the Jirojin Maru, but the interference on the ship had required an adjustment to the plan.
“He’s taking care of a few final details for me. Nothing you should be concerned about. Get the sub unloaded and send it back up for him. He’ll be with us shortly.”
When fully functioning, the subs didn’t need anyone to pilot them, similar to the fly-by-wire system used by passenger jets in case anything happened to their pilots during flight. In fact, there were only two or three people on her staff who had been manually trained to pilot the subs.
“Yes, ma’am,” the guard said, then to the other guards, “Come on, lads. Get the exo suits. Some of these final crates are bloody heavy. Move!”
The final crates and cases were filled with Umi’s treasures—items she had gathered over the past sixty years. She was a collector in all areas of her life: from people, to art, to information. Unfortunately, she’d had to leave some things behind—like her Picasso collection and Tatsu. Not that it really mattered; even the treasures she had brought with her were destined to be left behind once she crossed over. Still, she couldn’t stand the idea of someone else’s having her prizes.
Or getting the better of her.
Being triumphant in the business world meant never letting anyone better you. And if by some chance of fate they did, never letting their moves go unanswered. It was one of the reasons for her success. When most other companies heard they were up against the Tenabe Group, more often than not they dropped out of the fight. They knew what would happen if they did something insane like win a deal away from her. Not only their financial lives, but their personal lives would be put on the block. And Umi was consistent to the end.
Morgan had been sent to finish what Umi felt were incomplete transactions. Mainly, to kill Tanaka, Ms. Reynolds, and anyone who had helped them interfere with her plans. Alex Corsair was on the list, as well. He had served her well over the past year, but he knew far too much about her business practices and what would come next.
And if by some accident Morgan failed and got himself killed, that would just save her the trouble of doing it later. But right now, it was time for a reunion.
Chapter Twenty-six
Jirojin Maru
2:15 P.M. Local Time
RAIN SLUICED DOWN onto the heliport, washing away the blood and debris. The storm continued to intensify with every passing moment. The sky overhead was black with clouds, turning day into night, save for the periodic flash of lightning, the following thunder deafening and palpable. The sea was tossing the Jirojin Maru around like a toy in a hot tub filled with ink, the huge waves starting to break over the deck.
Jonathan was the only one on his feet, and staying there was more than a little difficult. The gas had stopped billowing out of the vents, but no one knew how long it would be before the ship’s innards were traversable without risking unconsciousness for some, or death for the others. And they only had one mask—still sitting on Alex Corsair’s lifeless forehead.
“What’s happening, Tanaka? Things are getting really fucking hairy back here,” Jonathan shouted. He’d explained the implant to Maggie and the others, fending off their questions about it as government secrets.
“The storm is getting stronger,” Tanaka said.
“Yeah,” Jonathan said, looking out to sea. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“When the gas stopped, I went into a few staterooms and checked out the guests. The antitoxin seems to be working as described. Everyone’s out cold, but alive.”
“That’s great, but we’re going to be just the opposite if we don’t get off this deck like five minutes ago,” Jonathan said, fighting for his balance after another rocking wave.
“What’s he saying?” Maggie asked from her position beside Alex.
“He says the storm’s getting stronger.”
Maggie rolled her eyes.
“I know, I know,” Jonathan said. Then, “Tanaka, give me something, or we’re going to have no choice but to head in.”
“Don’t! Some of the hallways up here are still thick with vapor. You won’t get fifty feet without passing out.”
“Fuck!”
Maggie looked at him.
“Gas is still too thick to go inside.”
“If we can get to the moon-pool room, we’ll be okay,” Tatsu said. She’d been less than forthcoming when asked what Alex’s dying words had meant, saying she didn’t know any more than he had. Less even. Jonathan didn’t know if he believed her or not. He didn’t know enough about her to make an evaluation.
“What do you mean?” Per asked.
“The room is pressurized to keep the water in the moon pool from flooding the ship,” Tatsu said. “If it’s keeping the water out—”
“It’ll keep the gas out,” Maggie completed. “But we’re still four decks up and half a ship away.”
“One of us should take the mask and try to find some other ones. Then come back and we can all get to this moon-pool room,” Per said.
Jonathan wasn’t sure what to make of this guy. And he had no idea how the two of them could possibly be alive after that jump from the helicopter.
“Great idea, but anyone with a mask has already left the ship,” Tanaka said. Apparently that had been Umi’s original plan; Tanaka had seen her sub depart on the sonar. It had disappeared once it reached the jamming perimeter. Jonathan had already shared the information with the group.
“Not everyone,” Jonathan said. “I’ve got one in my room.”
“Wait, what about Tanaka?” Maggie said. Jonathan instantly knew what she meant, slapping himself in the forehead. If Tanaka was on the bridge, he was seconds away from Jonathan’s room.
“Tanaka, did you hear that?”
“Yeah,” said Tanaka. “But since Morgan’s wandering around with a gun, I don’t like the idea much.”
“If you don’t hurry, you’re going to have the deaths of four people on your hands. I’m betting you’d like that even less.”
“You’re right,” Tanaka said. “But I—hang on!”
“What is it?” Jonathan asked.
“The sub. It’s coming back!” Jonathan relayed Tanaka’s message to Maggie.
“Great, so we’ve got more guards to deal with?” Maggie asked. Tatsu explained how the sub didn’t need to be piloted, so they might have sent it back just to get Morgan.
“But you don’t know that,” Jonathan said. Then after a moment, “Ah, it doesn’t matter if it’s empty or if there are ten guards on board, this is the only plan we’ve got. Tanaka, get over to my room, grab the mask, and get out here. We can buddy breathe with two masks down to the moon-pool room.”
“I’m almost to your room now. See you in ten.”
“Make it five,” Jonathan said. He turned his attention back to the others around him. “He’s on his way.”
“Unless he runs into Morgan,” Maggie said. Jonathan ignored her and knelt in front of Tatsu. For a second, Per looked like he was going to intervene. Jonathan didn’t know what this guy’s real deal was, but let that go for now.
“Tatsu. In another situation, I’d be tactful and very clever, but I don’t have time for that. You’re lying. I know you’re lying, and so does everyone else. If you don’t tell us the truth, we’re going to leave you and your friend when Tanaka gets here.”
Per made a motion to protect her again.
“And unless you’re faster than a bullet, I’d stay exactly where I was, mister,” Jonathan said as Maggie pulled the slide on her weapon back and let it go to emphasize his point. He looked for frustration and anger in Per’s eyes, but there was nothing there. Even so, Per finally moved away from Tatsu.
“I won’t interfere,” Per said. “I just want answers. We’re on the same side.”
“Sure we are. Now, Tatsu. What was Alex talking about?” Jonathan said.
Tatsu seemed to assess their situation, heave a sigh, then finally give in to the inevitable.
“I don’t know everything,” Tatsu said, “despite what Mr. Corsair said. But I do know how this all started.”
“UNTIL MIKAWA, UMI’S late husband, came along, all she cared about was the bottom line, the next deal. She had just turned ninety when she met Mikawa, twenty-two years her junior, but neither one cared about their age. Except for the fact that finding each other so late in life meant their days together truly were numbered,” Tatsu said.
She couldn’t believe she was telling this story to a bunch of strangers. For so much of Tatsu’s life, she’d trained herself to keep secrets. But things were different now. And even if they weren’t, there was very little anyone could do to Umi now.
“Everyone thought Mikawa was an opportunist, but they didn’t know him. He was the kindest man with the biggest heart that I ever met.” Tatsu said, glad the rain was pelting her face, and no one could see her tears. Her whole life, she had felt like she owed Umi, and that’s why she’d done the things she did for her. But Mikawa had shown her compassion and love, expecting nothing in return. She’d loved him like a father.
“Through their years together, he kept his job as a tailor and never took a single dime from Umi or her company. No one knew or cared about that, though.”
“That’s a lovely story, but what does it have to do with our current situation?” Maggie asked.
“I’m getting to that,” Tatsu said, as lightning flashed, and a wave broke over the side of the ship, washing over everyone.
“Get to it quicker,” Jonathan said.
“It was about then,” Tatsu continued, “that Umi took an interest in gerontology, the study of the aging process. She wanted more life, both for her and for Mikawa, who was showing his age far more at seventy than she was at ninety-two. She was afraid she was going to lose him, and Umi couldn’t stand the idea that there was something affecting her life that she had no control over. So she did what she does best; she took control back. It was the biggest influx of capital investment the science had ever seen. No matter how far-fetched or fringe the research, she dumped ridiculous working capital into it. But even that was mild compared to the change in her behavior six months ago.”
“What happened six months ago?” Jonathan asked.
“They ran out of time. Mikawa, who had survived several battles with cancer thanks to Umi’s research and money, was under attack again. But this time, the cancer was frighteningly aggressive. Before they could treat it, it metastasized into every system and organ in his body. He had days, if that, to live.
“Umi called in every team that was even remotely close to a solution. But the science simply wasn’t ready. The treatments would have killed him faster than the cancer or his age. All, save one. Or two, actually. The two most likely projects combined.”
“You’re talking about Nagura and Dr. Reese,” Per said, more to himself it seemed than anyone else. When Tatsu nodded, everyone looked at Per. “I said I wanted answers, I didn’t say I didn’t have any.”
Tatsu thought most people would have punctuated something like that with a sarcastic smile. Per just blinked, stone-faced, waiting for more of her story. Jonathan shook his head.
“For those of us who didn’t just destroy a helicopter, who the hell are Nagura and Dr. Reese?” Jonathan asked.
Tatsu explained Nagura’s robotic fame, both in the battling-robot rings and in the field of robotics.
“Robotics?” Maggie said. “Sorry, I know what robotics are, I just don’t see . . . how . . .” Tatsu could tell by the dawning in her eyes that she had made the connection.
“Dr. Reese worked for CRYSTASIS,” she continued. “A company fighting almost as hard as Umi to find the secret to life extension. Reese specialized in neural net computers and artificial intelligence, heading up a special project. Very special.
“It was all still a long shot, the longest shot Umi had ever taken in her life, but it was all she had. And she’s not one to give up, no matter what the odds are. Six months ago, long before Dr. Reese’s research was ready for application, she invited the two teams here and gave them carte blanche. Whatever they needed they got. And the teams had just enough hubris to think that was all they needed. Everyone’s spirits rose, even Mikawa’s. Until the accident.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Six months ago
“DR. REESE, WE need you in the control room.” Nagura stepped back from the microphone and looked through the large window at Reese, who was moving from one bank of machines to another.
Tatsu thought his swirling lab coat made him look like he was dancing. She had never seen machines like these before, the displays and flashing lights looking like some kind of science-fiction movie to her. Hold C had been set up in remarkable time, the machines constantly arriving over the past few days. Tatsu had spent most of it with Umi and Mikawa, just sitting and holding Mikawa’s hand sometimes. She felt so helpless.
They were set up on the Jirojin Maru because of the legality involved with human trials of technology that wasn’t anywhere near ready for that stage. That and the fact that if they were successful, Umi and Mikawa couldn’t very well wander around the mainland in their new bodies.
Reese waved at the control-room window without looking, like he was shooing a gnat. He stood between the two operating-room tables set up in the hold, bending over the one with Mikawa on it. Mikawa wanted to be awake as long as possible, but he’d been having some rough days, and he didn’t look like he was going to make it to lunch, never mind be able to withstand the procedure.
Tatsu had thought they were crazy when they’d first told her they were going to try to transfer Mikawa’s mind into a robot—Nagura actually called it a cipher, which apparently meant a robot body with no one inside it yet—but she forced herself to be positive when she saw how much Umi was hoping and praying this would work. And it was his last chance. She knew he wouldn’t live beyond the week, crazy ideas or not.
Mikawa was wearing an EEG brain cap that looked to Tatsu like an old-style swimming cap except for the hundreds of thin, fiber-optic cables running out of it. They joined up just behind his head; and then the futuristic ponytail connected with a bank of machines against the wall. A mass of other wires ran from various body parts into the workstation on wheels that sat between the two tables. The monitor on top of the workstation table showed all of Mikawa’s vital signs across several windows. The center of the display showed an animated, colored representation of Mikawa’s brain, various quadrants lighting up orange and red briefly before falling back into a cool blue.
“Reese, you’ve checked and rechecked
the readings a hundred times,” Nagura said into the microphone again. “If he’s not ready now, he’s never going to be.”
Also in the control room were Umi Tenabe and Alex Corsair. Everyone else on the ship had been forbidden to come down to this area until further notice. Tatsu thought Umi looked as if she were going to pass out at any second. Tatsu kept asking her to sit down, but Umi just ignored her and stared out the window. Alex, on the other hand, looked bored.
“We’ve only got one shot at this, Nagura,” Reese said. “If our calculations are off by even a—”
“They’re not,” Nagura said, his voice full of confidence.
But Tatsu had seen Nagura bent over the occupant on the table beside Mikawa for most of the night, so she knew he wasn’t as confident as he pretended to be. Which was understandable. It was his baby. He had created it. Created them, actually. There were two humanoid robots in the room, but only one was connected and part of this procedure. The other one, the robot for Umi, was lying dormant in a large crate against the far wall.
When Umi had first seen the robots, she’d balked and almost canceled the project. Nagura had reassured her that the appearance of the robots—now merely humanoid with white, almost translucent “skin”—was temporary. Function had to come before form. Once the procedure was successful, they’d have all the time in the world to dress them up. Nagura promised that these sexless drones would not stay that way. They would look and feel like any other human, except that they would last for hundreds of years. More, maybe.
Tatsu watched Reese make a few more adjustments to Mikawa’s skullcap, then touch the screen display on the workstation and manually adjust some settings. When he was done, he backed up, and his eyes darted around the room, giving everything one last check.
