Sitting in the seaQuest's transport sub, Bridger was tempted to call the bridge and ask what was so damn important that he had to hurry back. But there had to be a good reason that Crocker—in charge while he and Ford were off the ship—hadn't told him that reason.
Perhaps security was involved, and now Bridger's imagination kicked in. Maybe there was a renegade sub in the area, he thought. Perhaps the elusive Rafael himself wanted to attack the resort, or seaQuest.
But that wasn't too likely. Rafael hadn't stayed free by being stupid. His plan was a good one—only he hadn't banked on the seaQuest getting involved, and he certainly hadn't planned on his two people in the resort getting trapped.
Did Rafael have a second target?
That would make sense. Two targets would make it certain that he'd catch the UEO by complete surprise.
Bridger sat in the transport for the five-minute shuttle from the resort to the moon pool of the seaQuest.
Then a third possibility occurred to him.
It's Darwin. Darwin didn't make it, and Gator wants to tell me to my face.
Sure—that could be it.
Bridger nodded. Because I'm supposed to lose everything I care about.
The sleek black shape of seaQuest was visible ahead, the hull of the sub almost lost in the abyssal darkness. He saw the glow from the bridge and the running lights that gilded the exterior, outlining the blackish-blue of the cyclic polymer surface.
The ship looked more like a living thing, a giant phosphorescent hammerhead.
And like a living thing, Bridger thought, it has bitten out of my life.
Lieutenant Commander Ford was already on duty by the time Bridger got up to the bridge. He was talking to Crocker, who rubbed his chin the way he always did whenever he dealt with something disagreeable.
"Where's the fire?" Bridger said.
Crocker didn't smile. It was the same face the SOB had worn when they used to play poker years ago. No grins until the last card was triumphantly played.
"What, no smiles?"
The waiting was almost over...
"Captain," Ford started.
"Sir," Crocker jumped in, "we got a security code one message from the UEO. For your eyes only."
It wasn't about Darwin—and Bridger breathed a bit easier.
There was nothing that Bridger would keep secret from Crocker about this ship. As his chief of the helm, Bridger trusted him completely. And the same went for Ford.
Still, he'd better see what the message was privately.
"I’ll check it in my cabin. I could use a hot shower and change of clothes..."
Hurrying, Bridger went to his stateroom, his curiosity prodding him along.
A face on the VR screen in his cabin asked for his identification.
"Captain Nathan Hale Bridger." Bridger paused, and then gave his UEO Security number. "8-0-1-7-3-1."
The screen flashed, "Voice Recognition and Security Code Confirmed."
And then Bill Noyce was on the screen, looking as if it were a live feed.
And why wasn't it a live feed? Bridger wondered. Why didn't Noyce contact him directly and speak with him? Curiouser and curiouser...
"Captain," Noyce said.
A bit formal, Bridger thought. What's going on here? Didn't I just save the UEO's—
"There's been a change in the orders for the seaQuest."
Good, thought Bridger, I didn't want to go to San Francisco anyway, parade past the Golden Gate Bridge and let VIPs poke around the ship. Certainly there was something more useful we could be doing.
"There's a scientist at SousMer who will require transport to the UEO Deep-Sea Research Station in the Azores."
'Transport?" Bridger said aloud to the screen. "Give me a break. Now we're a bus?"
The message continued...
"The scientist's name is Dr. Richard Ernst of Der Berlinner Akademie fur Wissenschaft. He is to be transported, with all due speed, to the research station. Further, Captain, you are to remain at the station while Dr. Ernst conducts his inspection of the facility."
Then Bridger saw something odd. Noyce hesitated—as if he were about to say something else, something that would clue Bridger in to what the hell was really going on here...
"Er, Nathan, you are to lend Dr. Ernst whatever support necessary while doing what you must to guarantee the security of the seaQuest."
Guarantee the security of the seaQuest?
Bridger had about a dozen questions, but at the top of the list was, Why couldn't this Dr. Ernst use a normal sub transport, some commercial vehicle on a milk run out of Florida or Rio? Wasn't using the seaQuest a bit of overkill?
Of course, he couldn't ask questions of a recorded message.
"Nathan—"
Noyce was softening, letting his authoritative mask slip a bit. Probably, Bridger thought, because he can imagine the steam coming from my ears.
"You will be traveling to the largest hydrothermal vent area ever discovered, a relatively new area that has been off-limits to all commercial interests. Not only is the field extensive, the topography of the area is dangerous, with the thirty acres of vent site dotted with dangerous volcanic deposits and subterranean caves. Dr. Ernst will be able to brief your team fully once he's aboard and you're under way."
Noyce took a breath. "Be careful, Nathan."
Bridger was about to address the screen and command it to go off—the message was surely finished—when Noyce added something.
"Oh—I have also ordered Terry McShane to come on board the ship. She will observe the interaction of the naval and scientific units on seaQuest and prepare a report for the UEO. It's something the board would like to see. Have a safe voyage, Nathan."
Noyce disappeared, and the words "Message Completed" flashed.
"What the—" Bridger took out his VR-PAL, the easiest way to communicate while walking to the bridge. "Bachmann, get me someone, anyone, at the UEO."
"Aye, aye. Captain. Sir, we've also had a request from SousMer to ferry over two civilians... for transport, sir. Should I begin processing that request?"
"No," Bridger barked.
He ran to the bridge, past the empty tank where Darwin often followed him like a frisky puppy. God, I still haven't checked on Darwin...
All eyes fell on Bridger when he got to the bridge. "Orders, sir?" Ford said.
"In a minute, Mr. Ford. Bachmann, are we through to the UEO yet?"
"No, sir... The Net is running slow. The weather playing havoc with signal use."
"Keep at it."
Crocker stood to the side. "Anything you care to pass along. Captain?"
"Maybe, Gator. I only have to check on a few things."
"Sir," Bachmann said, "another request. The two parties at SousMer—Dr. Ernst and Ms. McShane—report that they have UEO clearance to come on board."
Bridger smiled. Whose ship was this anyway? he thought. "In a minute. Lieutenant."
"Sir—I have a link to UEO Command now. Center screen."
There was a face that Bridger had never seen before, a young man with short blond hair and cold blue eyes.
"Could you put me through to Admiral Noyce, please?"
"Sir—I'm afraid I can't—"
"Look—" Bridger saw the man's name—Captain Gerry Wilson, communications officer. "Look, Gerry, wherever the Admiral is, he can be reached, and I'm sure he'll want to speak—"
But Gerry shook his head. "Captain, he left explicit instructions not to be disturbed for the next sixteen hours. As you can imagine, he's quite exhausted by the crisis at—"
"Well, I'm not exactly feeling well rested myself, Gerry. If this Dr. Ernst needs transport somewhere, then surely you can arrange—"
"Captain Bridger, Tropical Storm Mike is a major storm system. You can check EarthNet to see the tremendous damage it's doing. There are literally no surface ports open; nothing is moving anywhere. And any subs we have at sea are rushing to aid devastated areas. The seaQuest is the closest vessel to the area."
"And Dr. Ernst can't wait?"
Gerry's face was rigid, implacable. He took a breath.
What's going on here? Bridger thought.
"No, sir. He can't."
For a moment, Bridger was tempted to tell Communications Officer Gerry Wilson that he had no intention of following that order, that if they wanted the seaQuest to be a bus, then they could get another captain.
But there was something very odd about this. Noyce unavailable, McShane coming aboard, and—above it all—the feeling that something strange was going on at the UEO Deep-Sea Research Base in the Azores.
Noyce's recorded words came back to him...
... while doing what you must to guarantee the security of the seaQuest.
Secure from what?
Bridger was curious—and he had never believed the old saw that curiosity killed the cat.
He turned to Lieutenant Bachmann.
"Permission to board... granted, Mr. Bachmann."
Dr. Akira Shimura's medical center looked more like a greenhouse. Besides the dozens of exotic plants he had growing—from genetically-altered bromeliads to rare orchids, in full bloom—Shimura also had tanks holding assorted underwater algae, including containers of phytoplankton and spirogyra. Shimura owed these simple-celled plants and animals his continued existence.
Bridger saw the doctor leaning into a large holding tank. Some of Shimura's cancer-ravaged organs had been exchanged for transplants that depended on tissue created from the plankton and plant material.
It worked well enough, except for one limitation. Shimura could never leave the protective, controlled atmosphere of seaQuest or, as he told Bridger, the skinlike material would quickly begin to decay.
"I'm alive, but a prisoner for life."
Bridger suspected that the man wasn't that unhappy with his plight. His plants, his work, were his life. And, as Shimura often said, "Who could not be happy with all the Earth's oceans to explore?"
Shimura didn't hear Bridger enter.
"Akira..."
Shimura looked quickly, then turned back to the tank. "Yes, Nathan. Come closer, I think you should see... this."
Bridger pushed past a trio of grasping spider plants dangling from the overhead lights. Chances were this medical room was in violation of any number of UEO codes.
As if anyone would report Shimura.
Bridger came closer and saw Darwin on his side, with his breathing hole and one filmy eye out of the water. The eye seemed to widen when it saw Bridger, and the Captain instinctively looked up to the speaker, expecting Darwin to greet him.
"Oh," Shimura said. "I had to remove the communications linkup, the microtransmitter. Not for long, but it was positioned in a delicate spot."
Darwin stirred in the tank.
"Easy, boy, easy," Shimura said. "He might get very excited when he sees you. I have given him medication, painkiller, a light sedative. He was sleeping a little while ago."
"Can he hear us, understand us?"
"Oh, yes."
Bridger came close to the tank. He scooped up a handful of water and dribbled it along the side of Darwin's head. Then he smoothed the skin. Darwin's eye blinked, and then the dolphin stirred in the tank.
"Easy, Dar," Bridger said. And then the Captain saw the wound, an open patch of whitish fat and tissue just behind the great head of the dolphin.
Bridger winced, and he caught Shimura looking at him. "I know, it looks bad. I was worried... I thought there could be damage to his nervous system; you see the wound is so close to the dolphin's backbone. They are so much like us, it is such a vital area."
"Then, he's okay?"
Shimura nodded. "I have cleaned the wound. There were bits of, I don't know, debris from the explosion, bits of rock. I also treated the wound with a solvent made up of zooplankton tissue cells. They will protect the opening while it heals. In a day or so, I'll put a water-resistant bandage on the wound—just to keep it protected. Then I can put back the communicator chip, and Darwin should be nearly as good as new."
Again the dolphin kicked up the water, splashing its big tail out and wetting Bridger and Shimura.
They laughed, and Bridger said, "Yes, that is good news, eh, boy?"
Shimura grinned. "Now, you'd best leave. Captain, and let the patient get some rest."
Lieutenant Commander Ford escorted the two "guests" to the bridge. Ford saw that they both looked around the bridge, in awe of the electronic wonderland that was the heart of the seaQuest.
"Why is everything lit with a turquoise light?" Terry McShane asked. Ford knew nothing about her, except that she was with the UEO and she was coming on board. That was enough to have him on his toes.
"The ambient light reflects the situation of the ship, Ms. McShane. The blue indicates the lowest level of alert, normal cruising conditions. In the case of a conflict or other emergency, the interior lighting would reflect the condition."
"So—it serves a psychological purpose?" the scientist, Dr. Ernst, asked. Ernst didn't look so good, Ford thought. Whatever he had done to weather the hostage incident had left him looking bedraggled.
"Psychological and informational. The color change can affect how the crew responds to situations; it provides information as to the level of alertness. Different procedures are followed at different levels, from blue to green, to yellow—"
"But there is also a psychological component?"
"Yes, I imagine there is."
Ford looked down the port passageway and saw Captain Bridger hurrying to them. Just in time, Ford thought. He didn't like having these two civilians on the bridge, what used to be his bridge, asking all these questions.
Let the Captain deal with them.
And was it only his imagination, Ford thought, or did he sense a tenseness coming from McShane?
Was there some history here? Between her and Bridger? Well, wouldn't that make the next few days even more interesting...