by John Bolin
Khang grinned eagerly. “The Peng AI is based on animal mimicry. If you want to develop a synthetic organism that you can operate like an organic organism, the best way to do so is to use the organic one as a template. Copy its movements, structure, and systems.”
Khang placed his hands on the glass and looked at Alex. “The Peng’s eyes are designed after an eagle’s eye, accurate for up to a mile, even underwater. Its body structure and power supply mimic that of a human sperm, powerful enough to swim upstream—whether that’s upstream in an actual river or upstream in the human bloodstream.” He paused, watching the water himself. “Its jaws are designed like a great white shark.”
The bull sharks moved past the window again.
“But how do you power them?” Alex asked. “They’re too small for batteries, right?”
“They synthesize protein for energy, just like you and I do.”
Khang pressed a button on the keypad. One of the bull sharks suddenly jerked and writhed, jaws snapping, as if something had trapped it by its tail. The Peng materialized in the water behind the shark. They were in the form of the eight larger fish, and one of them had the bull shark’s tail in its teeth. The other seven fish floated nearby. Watching? Waiting? Khang pressed another button, and they lurched forward, razor-sharp teeth bared, and attacked the shark. The shark’s struggle filled the water with a surge of sediment and gore.
Moments later, the water cleared and Alex stared at the bloody scene. A skeleton from a bull shark drifted to the aquarium floor, along with a few bloody remains. She turned to Khang, unable to decide if she was impressed or horrified.
Khang smiled. “Artificial piranha.”
* * *
Peter pulled the wet suit hood over his head. It always felt like he was being shrunk by the suit’s elasticity. He strapped a dive knife on his thigh and looked down at the pile of gear at his feet. “What’s all this other stuff?”
“That,” Gator said, pointing at part of the breathing apparatus, “is a new BeSea compensator. You’ll need it once you hit the water or you’ll float like a balloon. And this,” he said, handing Peter the Buddy Phone system attached to two of the masks, “will let us talk while we’re down there.”
“Cool,” Peter said. “It’ll be like having a couple of cans with string tied between them, except we’ll be in the water.”
Gator moaned as he forced himself into the suit.
“What are these?” Peter asked. He pointed to a contraption that looked like an RC airplane, only with straps hanging off it.
“It’s called a PowerSwim,” Gator said. “It’s a DARPA project. I’m surprised you haven’t seen it. What with your dad there, and all.”
Peter gave Gator a withering look. “We don’t exactly talk.”
“Right. Anyway, back in the seventies DARPA created a device like this—they called it the Aquean—but it never took off. It’s a pain to get on, but it’s supposed to use shed vortex technology to reduce energy output by 70 percent. Only problem with these things is they keep your legs bound together, which can be a pain ’til you get used to it.” He lifted the mask to his face and waded into the water, the PowerSwim in his hands. “We’ll see if it works.”
Peter grabbed his own PowerSwim and followed Gator in.
The pool surged around him and sucked over Peter’s head. He steadied himself with his arm as he adjusted the BeSea and regulator. He reached up and turned the Buddy Phone on.
“Gator, you there?”
Gator hung in the water beside him. He looked at Peter strangely but didn’t respond. Gator reached over and adjusted Peter’s gear until he was good to go.
“This is Aquaman,” Gator said. “I read you loud and clear.”
“Let’s go.”
Peter watched Gator stretch his hands out in front of him and kick slightly with his feet. The PowerSwim worked like a dolphin kick on steroids. He seemed to catch on to how to use it without much trouble. It was another story for Peter.
“How do you use these things?” Peter asked, shaking it. “I feel like an idiot.”
Gator drove his PowerSwim over to him. “No, not like that. You look like a sick fish. Stop moving and try it again. This time, kick with both legs together, like a giant dolphin. From your waist to your feet.”
It worked, and Peter felt the device add strength to his kicks.
“There you go, boss,” Gator said.
“All right,” Peter said, “let’s go.” Though Gator was the more expert diver, Peter still led the team. He pointed his PowerSwim downward and followed it into the murky water.
The sunlight above seemed perfectly positioned, keeping the blue water dimly lit as they swam. As the sediment settled, Peter was surprised by how clear the water was. He glided silently through the water. The PowerSwim made it possible for him to keep moving with hardly any effort. Far below him, a glowing light shimmered in the gloom.
Peter realized that he and Gator were floating at the top of the entrance to a flooded cavern. Just beneath the entrance, the space widened enormously, as if they’d entered a hollow underwater volcano. The sides shot away, and Peter was soon unable to see them. He led Gator downward. Schools of fish swam around them as they descended. Peter could feel warm currents rising up from below. Like tropical water.
As his eyes adjusted, Peter realized that the cave was lit internally from some artificial source emitting from farther below them. The cavern was deep. They descended a hundred feet and were only halfway to the bottom of the cave. Peter could feel the water around him squeezing him as the pressure built. He adjusted his BeSea compensator and kept moving.
As he dropped, the water continued to grow warmer. Perhaps there was some kind of hot springs dumping into the water here. Maybe it really was an underwater volcano.
“Check it out!” Gator said, pointing. “They’re huge!”
Peter saw them, ten feet away. Three green snakelike creatures wriggled through the water heading for the entrance of the cavern. Their bodies weren’t cylindrical—more squarish—and more than eight feet long.
“Electophorus electricus,” Gator said.
“Huh?”
“The electric eel,” Gator said. “Stay the heck away from them. Even brushing up against them is five times worse than sticking your finger in an electric socket.”
Peter adjusted his buoyancy compensator as they went lower, glad to leave the eels behind. The light below them was brighter now. He glanced up. Only the meandering bubbles from their regulators and a dim glow from the sun gave any hint as to which way was up.
He eased up as they came close to the bottom. The light was emitted from a series of metal lamps that had been attached to the sides of the cavern. He stopped at the bottom.
Gator eased down beside him. “Where to?”
They had descended to the very center of the cavern’s floor. The lights illuminated dozens of caves or tunnels that branched off from the main chamber. It felt like an underwater Grand Central Station. At least half the tunnels glowed with interior light.
Gator pointed to a new light moving from one of the entrances. Someone was coming. “We need to get out of here.”
Peter nodded. “Follow me.”
“Wait, boss,” Gator said, “we need to kill our bubbles. They’re a dead giveaway. Take a deep breath and turn off your air.”
Peter didn’t like that idea, but Gator was the expert. He took a breath and spun the knob, turning off the oxygen. He kicked, and the PowerSwim pulled him toward one of the non-lighted caves. Gator followed.
The rogue light moved across the cavern from their right to their left. Definitely getting closer to the mouth of the tunnel in which Peter and Gator were hiding.
The light danced into their cave, even passing directly over Gator’s face. But apparently no one saw, because the divers—Peter could see now that there were two of them—glided quietly past them into another passageway. Both men swam with the aid of the PowerSwim devices. In fact, they appeared
to be wearing the same gear Gator and Peter had on, which meant their Buddy Phones were probably on the same frequency. Had they heard their conversation? Hopefully they had only a limited range.
Thirty seconds had passed since they’d turned off their regulators, and Peter figured that they had at least another minute before they’d need to turn them back on. Peter looked at Gator through his mask and put his finger over his lips.
It was a good move.
The Buddy Phone system crackled in Peter’s ear.
“The assembler is ready,” one of the men said. “Radio Raul and let him know everything’s in place.”
“Got it,” a second voice said.
What’s an assembler? Peter thought.
The divers swam to the center of the cave, where they sent their light probing from one cave entrance to the next.
Peter and Gator ducked farther into the cave, just out of sight. After an excruciating few seconds, during which Peter’s lungs began to burn, the two figures kicked and began to disappear from sight.
Peter spun the handle of his regulator, sucking in air. Gator did the same. The two men waited a full minute before moving again.
“We’ll head to the tunnel they came from,” Peter said.
Gator nodded. “Lead the w—”
“Don’t move.” A third diver loomed before them out of the darkness, a speargun pointed at Peter’s face.
* * *
“The Peng is just the beginning,” Khang said. “We have discovered how to use microscopic nanotechnology to deliver genetic messages to the human body. Messages that redefine the DNA of living organisms, Alex. Here in Eden, heart disease—the world’s number one killer—is now defeated. As are many other of the world’s worst killers. Cancer will soon be a thing of the past.”
The little white mouse skittered around Khang’s neck, moving from one shoulder to another.
“The Indians,” Khang said, “your Indians—have helped us do this. They have helped up discover the purest form of human DNA. They have helped us erase thousands of years of degraded genetics. I need you, Dr. Forsythe, to help me. You understand the history of human evolution better than almost anyone on the planet. Your expertise would be invaluable to Eden.” Khang spread his arms. “With your help we will be perfect again.”
Alex felt her mouth drop open. How was she supposed to respond to that?
A cell phone rang. The sound itself seemed out of place here. Khang answered. Alex could make out only bits of the hushed phone conversation. “American . . . brown hair . . . bandana . . . get rid of him.”
She felt her throat tighten.
They were talking about Linc.
* * *
“Look out!” Gator shouted.
Peter felt the impact as a cloud of crimson filled the water in the small cave.
Gator kicked Peter with his PowerSwim, smashing him against the side of the tunnel. The spear from the diver’s gun sliced through the water, tearing into Peter’s wet suit but only grazing his side.
Angry, Peter propelled himself out of the cave and into the assailant. The men collided, tumbling end over end in the main chamber. The assailant also wore the immobilizing PowerSwim, making it easier to swim but harder to move. The two men exchanged blows. In the commotion, Peter could see two lights moving back down from above. They’d soon have more company.
A flash of silver from above. Peter and Gator moved apart as another spear shot through the water between them. The guys above them were coming fast, spearguns ready.
“Gator, up,” Peter said. He watched Gator swim toward the other assailant.
Peter’s PowerSwim apparatus was keeping his legs connected and worthless. At least his assailant had the same problem.
A black-gloved fist smashed against his face, jarring his mask and regulator. A stream of oxygen pulsed out where the punch ruptured the seal on Peter’s gear.
Peter remembered the dive knife that was attached to the wet suit. But before he could reach for it, he took another hard blow to the jaw. He floated for an instant, the pain white-hot. A cloud of silt and blood filled the water.
Peter unstrapped the PowerSwim and it drifted to the bottom of the lagoon. He drew his knife and went into an underwater version of a ready stance. He glimpsed the cold eyes of his assailant, who drew a knife of his own. As fast as an eel, the assailant thrust the silver blade toward Peter.
But he was too slow.
Peter anticipated the move. He knocked the knife hand aside and struck a deadly blow with his own blade, plunging it into the man’s gut.
Peter snagged the guy’s speargun as it fell. He spun the diver’s buoyancy compensator. The slack body floated up and past the two other men.
“Two down,” Gator said, smiling through his face mask as he swam back down to Peter. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“What about your side?”
Peter had forgotten his wound. He looked at it now and saw it emitting a faint cloud of blood. “Just a scratch.”
“You just better hope there aren’t any freshwater sharks out here, buddy,” Gator said.
Peter pointed to the cave the men had entered through. Gator nodded and both men shot through the water. “Let’s get a look at what they’re doing down here.”
The tunnel went straight for twenty yards and then branched off in two directions. Peter looked at Gator. “Well?”
Gator thumbed to the right and started swimming. “I’ll check it out.”
“Good,” Peter said, looking at his side. “I’m going to sit tight for a minute and see if anyone is following us. I’ll catch up.”
Gator disappeared into the tunnel. Caged lights illuminated the low passageway like streetlights on a foggy night. The tunnel itself was about a dozen feet wide and only five feet high.
Peter waited a full minute, but no pursuers appeared. He glanced at his air reading and knew he was in trouble. He was losing air faster than he should be. He must’ve damaged his gear during the attack. He didn’t have enough oxygen left to make it out of the tunnel and back to the surface. He had another two minutes of air if he was lucky.
“Gator,” he said softly. No reply. He looked back toward the cavern. He could maybe get to the cavern and make a break for the surface. But considering the depth, he risked getting the bends.
The only other option was to swim toward Gator. He could leech off his air if he had to. Even then, between the two of them, they wouldn’t last long without finding a place to get out.
The lights in the tunnel suddenly flickered off, leaving Peter in a sea of blackness. A sound like a low hum vibrated through the water. The lights flickered back on again, but the sound continued.
He swam hard in the direction Gator had gone. He checked his air. Only a minute left.
The lights went off again.
* * *
“Where did you find him?” Michael asked.
“In one of the laboratories,” Raul said. “He was snooping around.”
“I thought you said they were dead.”
A short pause.
“I thought they were. We dumped them in a sinkhole filled with Peng. I guess they escaped.”
Michael didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Raul already knew he was furious. He flinched imagining what the punishment would be for such a foolish mistake. He should have killed them when he’d had the chance.
“Where is Major Zachary?” Michael asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Find them!” Michael said. “And kill them!”
“What should I do with the one we found?” Raul said.
“I want him dead . . . but not just yet. Take him to the assembler. Use an aggressive dose and then have him brought back to me. As long as he’s alive, the others will come after him. Let’s use him as bait.”
* * *
Peter stretched his hands in front of him as he kicked in the pitch-black water. He was concerned about the air, certainly, but not afraid. Th
ere’s always a way to survive. Fear was not the way to handle a crisis.
His hands hit something solid. A wall. Should he go right, left, or maybe even up? Time was running out. He turned to his left and kicked, then stopped. Something flashed behind him. And again.
An electric eel. It slithered upward twenty feet behind him. If there was an eel, there was surface water nearby. He turned around and began to swim toward the flashing light, following it as it wriggled in the water.
