Noyce's car sat outside the building, the engine issuing a low purr, waiting for him to come out. His driver, a good-natured Marine named Edison, would wait as long as it took Noyce.
The Admiral liked the city like this, so quiet in the near-dawn, the lights crystalline, the whole effect clean and refreshing.
He sipped his cup of black instant coffee.
When he got to the UEO headquarters over by Fort Wiley and the veteran's hospital, he could get some food if he wanted. Though he couldn't imagine being hungry... not today.
He put the cup down on an end table in the living room, grabbed his cap, and left his home.
Outside, there was a tangy, salty smell to the air, the slight taste of the Pacific Ocean sitting at the bottom of the rolling San Francisco hills.
Bill Noyce imagined seaQuest, where she was right now, what she looked like cutting through the black water. And he imagined Bridger, irritated, curious, sailing into the unknown...
They were tube worms.
But so unlike the worms found at other vent sites—the sleek, smooth-skinned, strange—and harmless—rift worms.
These babies were a whole different story.
"What in the world are they?" Bridger said, voicing the question that everyone watching must have had.
"Good question. Captain. When we first saw them, we thought that they were only a variant of the normal worm colonies but—"
The film took them closer to the field of worms, and at the top of each worm was a clearly visible opening. The opening seemed to be sucking in the water, then blowing it out, sucking it in, blowing it out...
Closer...
Now Bridger saw that the opening was ringed with what looked like tiny teeth.
"Incredible," Westphalen said. She turned to Bridger. "I must get a look at one of these."
"These are telephoto shots. Our first studies showed us that these worms were not the same as the other worms we've found. As you can see, they are filtering the water, taking in the superheated water, filtering out the toxins. That much was similar. But then these worms obviously had teeth, and something that approximated a mouth. Our scientists weren't sure, but—"
And now there was a still, a shot of one of the worms with its mouth open—Dead? Bridger wondered—the teeth plainly visible and a gulletlike opening descending into the center of the worm.
"It looked as if this worm could take sustenance in more ways than the Riftia pogonophosa Jones..."
Bridger turned to Westphalen, confused. "The name given to the rift worms," the scientist explained.
Ernst nodded. "This was an amazing creature, and there were so many questions. Why was this different creature here? And why were there other strange creatures only at this site? What implications did it have for evolutionary biology? And what could we learn from the creature?"
It was back to action footage now, moving through the vent field, watching the strange crabs scuttle across the field, great garlands of shellfish clustered around the base of the cliff, below the worms.
"Nasty-looking things," Ford said.
Ernst nodded. "Yes, they are. Commander. And what made these creatures even more interesting was that like the normal rift worms, these also consisted of a host and parasite."
"I must see one," Westphalen whispered.
"There is a bacterial parasite inside the worm. And though it's hard to tell, it appears that it is the parasite that controls the worm."
Ralph Maclnnis looked at the three people standing in his cramped quarters. The deep-ocean research station had been built quickly, using prefabricated sections originally destined for mining outposts and deep-drilling stations.
Whatever was quick and available—everything was thrown together, everyone was so eager.
Maclnnis was sweating. He had told his engineer to jack up the cooling system—and damn, it had to be so cold now. So why was he sweating?
The people—three people he trusted, he hoped he could still trust—looked at him.
"Maclnnis," the woman said, Dr. Marie Thibaud of IFREMER, "how many hours away is the seaQuest?
Marie too was partially supported by Harpe WorldWide Enterprises. Just about everyone in the station had some connection to Harpe.
Maclnnis brushed his brow. "I-I'm not too sure, Marie. Eight... ten hours..."
"Christ!" Julio Rodriguez, the station engineer, barked out the word. "That's just great, that's wonderful, Maclnnis. Why didn't you try and get help before—"
Now Maclnnis blew. "I let them know. You understand? Right away, I let them know, but—damn it—there happened to be a terrorist crisis going on."
The other man laughed. He was a balding, round-bellied man who wore bifocals. He looked as if he should be running a country bookstore.
But he was the person with the closest ties to Harpe Enterprises, the man who'd advise Harpe on the commercial possibilities of whatever was found down here. Morton Dell was the money man, the one who'd tell Harpe and the UEO how much this project could eat up.
"It appears that there's more than a bit of panic in this room." Dell reached into his shirt pocket, removed a pack of cigarettes, and tapped one out. He stuck the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. An expensive and stupid habit...
He smokes only to annoy us, Maclnnis thought.
"I don't think anyone's panicking," Maclnnis said. "I've spoken with Mr. Harpe, and with Admiral Noyce."
Dell took a drag on the cigarette. "And you told them everything?" he said with a raised eyebrow.
"No, I told them about the accident—"
Another chuckle from Dell.
"And the importance of getting Dr. Ernst here."
"I'll say—"
Now Rodriguez turned to Dell. "Look, I've had enough of your cracks—"
Dell looked away, but Maclnnis saw that he was intimidated by Rodriguez. I would be too, Maclnnis thought. Rodriguez's temper was a scary thing to see.
"Look," Maclnnis interrupted, "Marie, you saw the bodies in the lab. Ernst will want to talk with you right away. And—and, Julio, what areas of the station are sealed? Has there been any attempt—"
Dell stood up. "If I might make a suggestion, Mac. There are still hours until seaQuest gets here. It may be time that you start handing out weapons... to those you can trust."
Dell looked away from Rodriguez, and Maclnnis thought the station's engineer was going to go jumping for Dell's throat.
Maclnnis licked his lips, tasting his salty sweat. It's so cold, yet I keep on sweating...
"Right. Sure, weapons. That's a good idea, Dell. Let's do it."
Maclnnis led them out of his room, down the long passageway to the locked firearms area.
Ernst shut off the monitor and appeared done with his briefing.
Westphalen looked at Bridger, then the others. "What? Excuse me. Dr. Ernst, but is that it?"
Ernst gathered his papers up.
"Yes, Dr. Westphalen?"
"Surely you plan on telling us more—why there's all this urgency in transporting you there, and how your field of paleobiology comes into play?"
Ernst shook his head. "Anything else, I'm afraid, must remain classified. Your captain has been told all that he needs, and I'm afraid I cannot tell you any more of the work being done at the research station."
"This is ridiculous, absolutely—"
"Steady, Kristin. Dr. Ernst"—Bridger looked up at the scientist—"is only doing his job."
Bridger saw Terry McShane get up, and her face looked troubled. There was something about Ernst's presentation that she didn't like. Bridger made a note to talk with Terry later.
Of course, she was playing her own cards pretty close to the vest. This whole expedition was turning into an information sump. And maybe it was time to correct that.
Bridger stood up. "Thank you. Dr. Ernst. Our estimated time of arrival at the station is in a little over seven hours. Now, if you'll excuse me...
Bridger was the first to leave. Because he didn't have a lot of time to get answers to some very difficult questions.
"Busy?" Bridger said, poking his head into Lucas's room.
"Huh? Oh, good afternoon, Captain. I was just downloading some reports on the storm. Mike is kicking butt...
Lucas hit a key, and there appeared a scrawl identifying the scene as Aruba... and Bridger saw a coastline lost to the torrential rain, low clouds, and terrible wind. The giant waves looked as if they were eating the beach.
A quick cut, and there were the streets of Martinique, some buildings collapsed into heaps, others with windows shattered.
"And old Mike's picking up strength, sir."
"Maybe this will teach the Weather Bureau about experimenting with climate alteration."
"Better living through chemistry, sir. The man-made storms were supposed to bring rain to southern California and parts of the Southwest."
Bridger touched Lucas's shoulder. "That they did, but it's like dominoes. Knock one thing over and another falls. And there's a big domino falling today."
Lucas nodded. "I have some footage from Florida, sir. They've started evacuating the Keys, and the mainland's gone on alert. I have some of that, if you'd like to see it... Getting ready for the worst storm in a century, they're saying."
Bridger looked back at the open door to Lucas's small cabin. He took a step and shut it. He felt Lucas looking at him, wondering what was going on.
"No, Lucas. Not now. Maybe you could save them; I'd like to take a look later. I have a lot of friends on the Gulf Coast." Bridger smiled. "Got one old friend from my days on the destroyer RFK. He lives on Captiva, runs a restaurant called Time Out. Quite a joint... Each room is filled with stuff from a different decade—the twenties, the sixties..."
Bridger thought of the last time he had been there with Barbara. How they stayed until everyone else was gone, laughing, drinking champagne, and enjoying a spicy conch chowder.
"It's going to be hit hard, Captain. Real hard."
Bridger nodded. "There is something that you can do for me, Lucas..."
"Sir?"
Bridger came close, lowering his voice. "I'd like everything you can get on this Dr. Richard Ernst. Where was he trained, what about his specialty... and why is it so damned important to get him to that research base? And—"
"Captain, the Net is running slow. There's a lot of heavy emergency use, all the systems being stressed out to the max. Some of them haven't been upgraded since the late nineties."
"Do what you can, Lucas. And find out what you can about this Azores base. Why all this secrecy? See if any hackers out there got anything interesting on what's going on down there."
Lucas took his Marlins hat and turned it around, brim facing back, ready to get to work.
"I'll do my best, sir."
Bridger patted Lucas. "Good—and, Lucas, no need to tell anyone else that I've asked you to do this."
"Yes, sir."
Bridger smiled. Lucas never sounded like a crewperson, even when he said the right words. Lucas was kind of out there...
Bridger grabbed the handle to let himself out.
He hesitated a moment. "One more thing... Could you run a check on Terry McShane. See what you come up with." Bridger smiled, hoping his guilt didn't show. "No biggie."
"I'm on the case, Captain."
The passageway was empty, eerily so, thought Maclnnis. Normally, there would have been the hustle and bustle of the station—scientists and technicians walking from the biology lab to the specimen tanks, and dive teams getting ready to head out to the vent field in submersibles.
Now it was quiet, disturbingly still.
All the modules, the work stations of the base, were at the end of the spokes, the long tubular passageways. Offices and smaller labs lined each spoke, and at the central hub there was a large meeting area, the communications center, and the dining facilities for the research station.
Smaller passageways connected the ends of the spokes, linking the major labs and wings of the stations.
But they were closed, locked. God—at least, Maclnnis hoped that they were still sealed. Two spokes were sealed off completely—Primary Biology One and the main sub pool.
Everything was contained.
Maclnnis hoped.
"Where the hell is everybody?" Rodriguez said.
"Laying low, I imagine," Dell offered.
Maclnnis looked at Marie Thibaud. She had come closest to understanding what had happened. An expert in the strange biology of the rift creatures, she had examined the wrecked sub, she had seen the bodies. It was only a miracle that—
They heard steps.
"Finally," Dell said.
Maclnnis saw a lone figure standing down at the other end, near the entrance to the hub. The person, a man it appeared, was backlit... so it was hard for Maclnnis to see who it was.
Instinctively, he stopped walking.
And after a few faltering steps, the others stopped also.
"Hello," Maclnnis said. "Who's there...?"
It was silly, as if they were kids, playing a game, hiding from a bully. And Maclnnis felt that maybe he should send another report to Harpe or the UEO... give them more... information.
But this fed into his fear. That if they knew everything, there was no way in hell they'd let the seaQuest come anywhere near the station. Instead, they'd give an order for seaQuest to take the station out.
But no, they wouldn't do that. Not with something this important, this amazing. Maclnnis remembered the look on Harpe's face. There was no fear there, only excitement, tremendous anticipation.
The UEO—well, that could be another story...
"Who the hell is it?" Rodriguez said.
None of them moved.
"Hello!" Maclnnis said again.
This time the figure, who had been standing still, started to move toward them.