The next day, we woke and brought SCAV-1 to a stop. We were still hours from The Vault, but we decided to proceed the rest of the way with conventional thrusters—quieter than the roaring SCAV drive, which albeit faster, was like putting a target on ourselves in the oceans, begging the BSFIF to come straight to our location to find out just who we were and what we were doing.
We set the autopilot at a depth of 200 meters and progressed northward at a moderate velocity of only 40 kph. We ate lunch together, mostly quiet still, but there were the odd snippets of conversation. Chalam and Alyssna said a few words to each other, which was nice to hear. It was a start, at least.
Max was anxious to detonate his bombs—and not to cause death, this time—and Clarke was asking him questions about the nature of the devices. Max was glancing at me, and I shrugged. It didn’t matter anymore; Commodore Clarke already suspected the truth. Eventually the world would find out, especially with the news that Russia would soon be pressing an attack.
“We’re going to spread the bombs out in a precise manner,” he told Clarke. “Each will be roughly two to three hundred meters apart along the fault. Chalam and I chose the locations based on the geology of the area.” And since he and his brother had studied and gathered detailed surveys of the fault lines . . .
“Why do you need so many?” he asked.
“It’s to make sure the crust slips.”
“One won’t do it?”
Max shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s the geologist’s field, not mine. I just have to make sure they work and ensure the correct detonation size.”
“Is there doubt?”
“Well, each needs an X-Ray blast first to trigger the hafnium’s energy release. It’s delicate, underwater. I’ve had to calibrate each for the depth in the Chagos Trench. But I’ve done a lot more testing in the past six months.”
“Since Seascape’s destruction?” Clarke asked, watching Hyland.
Max shot me another look. “I don’t know anything about that,” he said, his dimples flashing as he offered a sly smile.
Clarke chuckled. “Well, whoever invented the Isomer Bomb has triggered a new age. Forget atomics. Now we’ve got isomer energy.”
“It’s still nuclear by nature. Atomic isomers. But it’s not fission or fusion. That’s the difference.”
“I see.”
“Not that I’d know anything about it,” Max said, laughing.
Clarke paused for a moment and then said, “Would three bombs work? Or four?”
“On the fault?” He shrugged again. “I have no idea. Like I said, it’s Chalam’s area. We picked five to make sure that there’d be no doubt.”
—••—
I went to talk to Chalam. As we sipped coffee, I said, “How are you doing?”
He looked surprised. “Better, I think, Mac. I am dealing with it. I think I’ll have to settle for stealing the weapon from the bastards instead of killing everyone.” He chuckled. “You’re right. The guilt for that would have been way too much.”
“It would have gotten all of us caught, too.”
“True. But those people are just doing a job, like Alyssna said.” He sighed. “I have to get over the . . . over the incident and just move on. Deal with my grief.”
I studied him for a few moments, peering over my mug as I drank. He was staring into the distance, seemingly understanding what I’d been pushing for. Revenge was not a solution. Deal with your grief.
Things would get better.
At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
I was still waiting.
—••—
Doctor Alyssna Sonstraal was standing by herself—difficult in the cramped seacar—and deep in thought. I moved next to her. “Are you ready for this?”
“Mac, hi.” She smiled at me. “Thanks for giving me this opportunity.”
“It’s dangerous.” Her eyes drifted from mine and a wave of worry crossed over her features. I continued, “Are you sure you can still do it?”
“Oh yes, I want my invention back. I want to keep working on it. I can make it so much better.”
I blinked. “What are you thinking?”
“Oh, better range. If we switch to tritium instead of deuterium, it’ll mean way more destruction. Tritium has two neutrons in every nucleus, whereas deuterium only has one. More power. Precision aiming, and so on. I can always improve it.” She exhaled. “There was a period back in the early 21st Century when the power of lasers on the surface increased dramatically. In just a few short years—”
I smiled to myself. Richard had said exactly the same thing. When a developed and wealthy nation with an advanced education system devoted to science, technology, and engineering poured their resources into a project, the rapid developments could surprise everyone. That was one example. The space race of the 1960s was another. The rapid increase of computer processing technology yet another. And now, the rapid push out into space and the solar system was beginning to grip the population. Along with ocean colonization too, of course. Things on Earth were growing dangerous, especially between nations. Many were beginning to look for other places. To the oceans, the Moon, planets, and space stations.
Richard walked past us, and he called to Meg and spoke with her in a corner. They seemed nervous, but Richard gestured to me, and my sister peered at me for a moment. I nodded at her in encouragement. Then she looked back to Richard. They continued speaking in hushed tones, about the imminent infiltration of the secure facility, no doubt.
Nerves were natural.
I said to Alyssna, “Have you considered what I said to you earlier at Trieste?”
She looked at me briefly. “You mean, about my dad?” A sigh. “Somewhat. I see what you meant, that his lack of love actually motivated me and that’s why I’m where I am today. It’s why I have a doctorate from Cambridge.”
“That’s an achievement right there.”
“And I created The Water Pick. But it still hurts, Mac.”
“It always will,” I mumbled, almost to myself. I thought about my own dad. His actions had destroyed our family, and yet the people of Trieste revered him. He was a hero to them. To me and Meg, it was different. I’d wanted to avoid the path he’d been on, but then the SCAV drive ended up at my doorstep, more or less, and I’d embarked on the same path. I stared at Renée, who was chatting and laughing with the others. Meg had her arm around Renée’s waist. Crinkles appeared at the corners of her eyes. I’d do anything to protect her, I realized.
She felt me watching her and glanced in my direction.
She smiled.
—••—
The mission had begun.
We were powering toward the coordinates Chalam had provided at a very low velocity. Our screws were providing five percent thrust—barely a hum—and we were behind a rise in the ocean floor. Then Meg powered down and SC-1 settled to the bottom. We dared not risk the landing skids in case the hydraulics signalled our presence. SC-1 rocked slightly to the port as we came to a rest.
Max, Chalam, and Meg were staying on board the seacar. They had arranged the bombs on the deck beside the moonpool hatch, which was shut. They’d leave and power toward the Chagos Trench. Once there, they’d plant the bombs and detonate in exactly two hours.
We put the time into our PCDs and stared at each other.
2:00:00
We counted to three together, and on four, we collectively clicked start, and the timer began to run.
1:59:59
1:59:58
1:59:57
I blew my breath out in a rush. I was in a wet suit, tank on my back, full facemask on. So were the others. We nodded to each other, and the airlock opened.
It was time.
—••—
Sahar had a look of determination on her face. Clarke seemed nervous. Richard as well. Johnny, Cliff, and Renée were focused and zoned in. Alyssna now seemed excited to be going back to The Vault to get her invention.
There were more of us than would fit in the airlock, so we exited in two batches. The seafloor was deep there—at 515 meters—and the pressurization took a few minutes. It was tough because it was much deeper than a standard dive. But eventually we hit the correct atms, and the outer hatch opened.
It was dark outside.
A few minutes later, the rest of the team exited the seacar.
Then, with barely a whine, SC-1 rose off the floor, pivoted to the south, and slowly moved away, her thrusters churning quietly.
We looked at each other. Our scuba on this mission had rebreathers so it didn’t release bubbles; rather, the closed system recycled the exhalations and absorbed the carbon into a filter.
No noise.
We couldn’t make any noise.
Renée checked a map on her PCD and pointed to the north. We began to swim over the hummock and toward The Vault.
—••—
We moved slowly. There was no metal on our belts or hanging downward to scrape the seafloor. We’d wrapped everything in black tape just in case. If the sensors detected something, the algorithms would consider us natural marine life, and ignore us.
We hoped.
Soon a pale glow came into view, high over the bottom. I peered at it intently, trying to make something out.
It was a tower with a light fixed to the top.
Alyssna pointed and nodded at it.
It was the first sensor.
We were in the southeast area of The Vault. The tunnel into the docking pool was on the other side of the tower, about a hundred meters farther, according to Alyssna.
She seemed to be managing well. I took a moment to study the others. The Commodore seemed fine as well, though his face was drawn and tight. The rest were focused on the tower.
We swam toward it.
I checked the time again.
1:46:28
We figured we needed to be in the facility before it hit one hour remaining, to give us enough time to prepare. We also had to decompress before we could move farther into the facility, which was at four atms. When the bombs went, we felt we could start acting more aggressively, and hope that no one would notice us as we took what we wanted. They’d be in emergency mode, preparing for a large underwater displacement to hit them.
One that would never actually come.
Within another minute we were at the base of the tower.
The water was murky from depth, pressure, and suspended sediment. The tower stretched upward and the glow was far above. The sensor equipment was at the top, raised high above the seafloor to cover a much larger area around The Vault. Along with the other four towers, the system was constantly listening to the sounds in a large radius.
I glanced at Johnny and he gave me a thumbs-up.
He adjusted his vest and began to float upward, toward the sensors at the top of the tower.
He disappeared from sight.
A second later, Sahar also rose from the seafloor and ascended, positively buoyant—but barely—and followed my Deputy Mayor.
I held my breath.
Around me, the silence was deafening. My blood pounded in my ears.
I breathed slowly and surely.
Johnny was hacking into the sensor and disabling it. The procedure was simple—burn some wires and sever the power source—but the effects would be dangerous: someone would surely come out soon to fix it. Repair crews inside The Vault wouldn’t assume an incursion; rather, they would immediately think it was a minor mechanical issue, especially when they saw the wires burned rather than cut.
However, when the second sensor went, they would likely begin to think something was up, and they would step up their surveillance efforts around the facility.
A few minutes later, Johnny appeared in silhouette. He drifted to the seafloor, landed softly, and a cloud of sand billowed around his flippers. He flashed me a quick grin and another thumbs-up.
One sensor down.
Sahar landed a moment later. She’d accompanied Johnny. He had already instructed her on the procedure while on SC-1, but she’d now watched exactly what he’d done.
Our group checked each other over. Clarke was looking a little better—he’d relaxed a bit and his features weren’t as severe—and Alyssna was still focused and intense.
I pointed at Johnny, Richard, Clarke, Alyssna, and Cliff, then gestured to the North.
Our group was going to split off and move to infiltrate The Vault.
Sahar and Renée were going to remain outside and disable the remaining sensor towers. When SC-1 returned, Meg had to pilot close to the facility, find the exterior lab airlock, and we’d have to load the components on board.
1:33:38
We began to swim toward The Vault.