Rodriguez's electron-mag gun made a high-pitched squeak. A needle-thin point of light shot from the gun to a point in the center of Petersen's chest.
But Rodriguez didn't see it hit. Instead, he watched what was going on in Petersen's mouth, how the man's head seemed to twist and turn, trying to disgorge something, a slurry shape that resolved itself into one of the tube worms, wriggling out of Petersen's hideously enlarged mouth.
He heard a zap—the gun hitting. But then there was the sound of more metal gratings being kicked out, banging to the walkway.
Others were crawling out.
Still the tube worm inched its way out of Petersen, and, at the head of the creature, there were these teeth, moving, glistening.
Rodriguez fired again, but all he hit was Petersen's body, now only a dead body, slumped on the floor, while the worm pulled back and then—with terrible speed—lurched at Rodriguez.
The teeth landed on Rodriguez's chest. There was terrible pain, and then—as Rodriguez looked down, moaning—there was nothing, just a calm peace as the creature slid its way into Rodriguez's body.
While Rodriguez let the gun fall to the walkway and waited patiently.
Terry got to the lab seconds behind Ernst and caught him opening up the refrigerated specimen cabinet.
"Put that stuff back," she said.
Ernst turned around, holding the frozen test tubes in his hands. "You're crazy," Ernst said. "You'd let all these specimens be left here, maybe destroyed?" Ernst looked around. "This is a discovery of incredible importance. Mr. Harpe paid for it, and—"
"And you'd bring that to the surface, into the seaQuest? And what might happen? The same thing that happened—that's happening—to this station. Whatever this thing is, this worm, it can use us." Terry took a step toward Ernst, "You can't do it. Put them back. We can't—"
She heard steps. Someone following her. Probably Nathan, trying to get her to come back. He'd help her stop Ernst.
Terry turned around, but she saw a man she didn't know...
MacInnis looked ready to say "three." And Bridger glanced at the hatch to the shuttle. He saw a head pop up—Lieutenant Maklin—and in his hand—
"Okay," Bridger said, "Okay, everyone can come on. No problem—just let me—"
MacInnis shook his head. "No, you're trying to trick me. You're—"
Bridger caught Maklin's eyes. No time like the present was the message Bridger hoped he was communicating to the shuttle craft pilot.
MacInnis turned in the direction that Bridger was looking. One of the station crew said, "He's got a gun."
And Bridger watched while Maklin fired a sudden blast at MacInnis. MacInnis's eyes bulged, and then closed.
"You killed him!" someone screamed.
"No." Bridger responded. "That only knocked him out."
"And you're not going to take us!" someone else yelled.
Maklin came out of the shuttle, still holding his gun.
Bridger walked closer to the crowd. They looked so scared... "Now, wait a second. We will take you. But we aren't going to let you into the seaQuest until each one of you has been checked out."
There was some grumbling at this, but then they turned back to Bridger. Ready to listen.
"If you haven't been contaminated, then you'll be berthed on the seaQuest." Bridger paused. Here were twenty very scared people, and this could still go badly. But he saw their heads nodding. They had seen what could happen down here.
As for himself, Bridger couldn't even imagine.
"Does everyone agree?"
They nodded.
Bridger's VR-PAL radio came on again. He brought the pocket TeleCom unit up to his mouth.
"Bridger here."
He saw Ford's worried face. "Captain, is everything all right? Do you want a squad of marines sent down?"
"No, everything's fine here, Mr. Ford. We're going to bring these people up. Tell Westphalen and Shimura we want them quarantined and checked out—to make sure they haven't been in contact with the rift worms."
"Sir—we got a message. From another group of people..."
Bridger saw a woman move from the waiting crowd.
"That's the others," she said.
Bridger looked at her. "The others?"
She nodded. "The others... the ones that the worm got into, the ones it took control of..."
"You catching this, Lieutenant?" Bridger said.
"Yes, sir."
The woman looked away. "They got loose." She took a breath. "They're out in the station. You can't stay here. You have to leave..."
Bridger looked around. Where was Terry? Where was Ernst? He turned back to Maklin.
"Lieutenant, get these people on, and get ready to leave. And if I'm not back in five minutes, you leave without me."
"But Captain—"
Bridger leaned close to the sub pilot. "That's an order, Mr. Maklin. Five minutes—starting now."
Bridger ran toward the far exit, into the heart of the station.
Ortiz looked at the question posed by the analysis of the WSKRS data.
"Recommend uploading WSKRS data to LAGEOS."
Then, "Hit Y to begin upload."
LAGEOS? Why would this data about thermal variation have to be sent up to the geostationary satellite that monitored both weather and geophysical systems on the surface?
Ortiz got a funny feeling. He hit Y on his keyboard, and the data from the WSKRS probes was instantaneously zapped to the satellite.
"Transmission complete," the screen flashed.
Ortiz waited.
He glanced at Commander Ford, looking damned uncomfortable, waiting to hear from Bridger.
The screen flashed. Something was coming down from the satellite...
DOWNLOAD RLE RECEIVED BY SEAQUEST. Then below it the heading FILENAME/DIRECTORY: LAGEOS/AZORES.72021.
The seaQuest computer automatically brought the file up.
It was brief, three pages with supporting maps and charts. Brief, and Ortiz was amazed that the information could be analyzed so quickly.
"Mr. Ford," he said quietly, "I think you should see this..."
Ford came over.
"WSKRS picked up—"
Ortiz flipped from the thermal gradient charts back to the LAGEOS report. Ortiz waited until Ford got down to the operative line.
"Thermal fluctuations and the location of thermal vents indicate the seafloor area is experiencing a dramatic increase in de-stability. Systems project a geophysical event of a volcanic nature within one hour."
"What?" Ford said.
"Give or take fifty minutes," Ortiz said. He spun his chair around to face the exec. "Captain Bridger's got to get out of there now. And—God, Commander Ford—we've got to get seaQuest out of here."
Ford turned to Bachmann. "Alert the station. Tell them to get the hell out now. And Crocker—"
The chief of the helm was waiting, his face grim. Ortiz watched Ford give the orders—and he saw how Bridger's old friend was worried.
"Set a course out of here, 155 degrees east." Away from the vent area. "Prepare to pump forward ballast."
Get the giant ship's nose up quickly.
"And set dive planes at 45 degrees."
"Whoa," Crocker said. "That's a mighty angle for the—"
Ortiz said something. "We can wait for—"
Ford turned on him. "I've sent the alert. There are nearly three hundred people on this ship. They've got ten minutes to get back, and then I'm getting the ship out of here."
Ortiz saw Crocker's face twist, as if he wanted to say something. But the chief held his tongue.
"C'mon, Captain Bridger," Ortiz said. And he wished he didn't have a digital clock in front of him.
Bridger ran full out, turning down one passageway only to realize that it led to the station crew's quarters. The lab, he thought, Ernst was headed toward the biology lab. And Terry was following him.
What were they walking into?
Bridger felt his heart beating, the air sucked in big gasps.
I'm out of shape, he thought. The seaQuest was fitted with an extensive gym, but there never seemed to be any time.
He tried to remember the research station layout as he reached the hub, the communications center. He looked back at the spoke he had come from, and tried to remember where the lab was.
Bridger counted the spokes—one... two... three...
He looked straight ahead. It was that one, and he dashed down that passageway, ignoring the burning in his lungs.
Strange... with each lonely, echoing step, he thought of Barbara, the dreams he had, the way he still thought of her as if she were alive. How she seemed to be asking for him to reach back in time and... save her.
Save her—which was something he couldn't do. He couldn't save her... not then, not now.
He saw doors ahead, and the sign "Deep Ocean Station Azores—Biology Laboratory."
Bridger hit a button on a wall, and the doors slid open.
Lucas grabbed Ford's arm. "Mr. Ford." The XO turned to Lucas.
"What is it, Wolenczak? We're kinda busy up here right now."
He's not crazy about me, Lucas knew. Probably because I'm not military. Dr. Westphalen once even described Ford as "anti-scientific."
"It wasn't Admiral Noyce," Lucas said.
"What? What are you—"
"The last transmission for the UEO. It didn't come from the UEO, and it wasn't Noyce."
Ortiz interrupted. "Mr. Ford, we're still getting an increasing temperature gradient. LAGEOS is sending out red flags all over the place."
Ford nodded at Lucas. "Wait a second." Then he turned to the communications section. "Bachmann, have you told the Captain—?"
"I've told Maklin, but the Captain isn't at the shuttle." Bachmann looked over and made an uncomfortable face. "Something's going on down there."
"Great." Then Ford turned back to Lucas. "Now, you say that it wasn't Noyce—?"
"It was a digitally constructed image, the sound was a computer construct too. Brilliant stuff—state of the art. Someone had done a sampling of Noyce and was able to build up an interactive digital picture. Best image creation I've ever seen. But it wasn't Noyce who told the Captain to go down to the station."
Ford pounded the arm of the empty command chair.
"Mr. Ortiz, how much time—?"
"I-I can't say. It could still be an hour, or the whole area could go volcanic in minutes."
And Ford knew that everyone on the bridge had the same horrible thought. If the area went, if a fissure opened in the ground, the seaQuest would most likely be trapped, destroyed.
He looked at the monitor showing the WSKRS reading of the outside water temperature. It kept going up, even well away from the smokers.
Ford came to a decision.
"Chief Crocker, power forward turbines."
The Chief looked at him.
"Now, Chief."
Ford walked over to Bachmann. "And keep trying to reach the Captain, for God's sake..."
The biology lab door slid open, and Bridger saw three people inside...
Ernst stood next to a large refrigerated specimen cabinet. His hand was on the door, and he held test tubes in the other. And opposite, there was a man, someone Bridger didn't know, someone from the research station standing with his back to Bridger.
Terry was across the room, backed against the wall, her face twisted, her eyes wide—
Bridger said, "Let's go—back to the shuttle. And no samples, Dr. Ernst—"
Terry shook her head... and spoke.
"Nathan—get—"
The man with his back to Bridger turned around. Bridger saw his name patch. Rodriguez. He was smiling. Bridger smiled back—
Until he saw the hole in the man's chest. A great bloody cannonball-sized opening... with something below the surface, moving... alive.
There was no way the man could be alive, not with a wound of that size—and yet he was.
Rodriguez nodded. "Yes, let's all go to the shuttle." He turned to Terry, then back to Ernst. "That's a good idea."
Bridger backed up.
Thinking: I don't even have a gun. What the hell is wrong with me? No weapon—
Though he didn't know what was going on with Rodriguez, he knew that a gun would have made him feel a lot better.
Bridger looked at Terry, and—by making his eyes dart back and forth—he tried signaling that he wanted her to move closer to him. Terry took one step, and then another.
Rodriguez turned and looked at her. "Where are you going? What are you—?"
The thing in the hole, in Rodriguez's wound, came closer to the surface, and Bridger saw the whitish skin, and an opening, a mouth of some kind.
This is one for the movies, Bridger thought. If I was filming this, no one would believe it.
Terry stopped moving.
The thing in the hole edged out a bit more.
Bridger thought. Something bad is going to happen. Unless I do something, something very bad is going to happen...
Which was when Dr. Richard Ernst made his move.
Westphalen was on the bridge, standing next to Ortiz and Ford, looking at the wide view of the hydrothermal field.
"Do you agree?" Ford said.
Westphalen nodded, almost reluctantly.
"Look," she explained, "the flow of hydrogen sulfites has increased. Something's happening, a change in the geology of the area—that's certain."
Ford took a breath. "Then we have to leave."
Westphalen looked at him. "But what about the Captain?"
Ford looked at the screen, and then the vent area that was expected to blow—anytime now.
"I hope he gets out."
Ernst looked left and right. There was another door leading off the lab. Bridger watched the scientist look at it, hesitating, thinking... and then—steeling himself for a dash.
Ernst ran to the door.
What happened next was so brutally fast that Bridger held his breath.
Ernst ran four, five steps, until he was only a foot away from this other door leading off the lab.
And—without Rodriguez moving—the worm shot out of his chest, a long ribbony line suddenly stretching all the way to Ernst.
It hit him in the side just as his hand was reaching out for the handle. Then, as if Ernst were feeling some kind of back pain, he reached behind him...
There were sounds—the sound of skin tearing, the small yelps that Ernst made. Horrible sounds.
For the worm, it was an opportunity.
"Terry," Bridger yelled, and she ran over to him as he hit the button opening the lab door. The doors seemed to take forever, and he saw Rodriguez or whatever this thing was now, turning to him even as it dragged Ernst toward itself.
Come on..., Bridger begged as the door seemed to take forever to slide open.
Come—
The door was open, but as Bridger pushed Terry through, he looked over his shoulder and saw the worm—completely imbedded in Emst now, the two figures joined together—split with a loud snap.
Then there were two of them, pulling back, ready to leap at Terry and him.
He hit the button on the other side, and the door started to slide shut—
The worms landed at the closing door with a greasy splat.
Bridger started running, pulling Terry. He had told Maklin to wait five minutes. How much time had passed?
Three, four minutes.
"There must"—Terry's voice gasped from the effort of the full-out run—"be... more."
"What?" Bridger said.
They turned the corner.
"Prepare to take her up... Dive planes set, Mr. Crocker? Engine one-quarter. Trim aft ballast."
"Damn," Crocker said.
But Ford didn't let the Chief's complaint pass unnoticed. "I gave an order, Mr. Crocker. An order to save this ship. And I expect it to be obeyed."
He turned to Bachmann. "What's the shuttle doing, Mr. Bachmann?"
"Maklin is still alone. He's loaded the station crew into the shuttle. They'll have to be quarantined. I've already alerted Dr. Shimura."
"And Bridger?"
Bachmann looked sick. "No word, Mr. Ford."
People stood in the passageway.
But even in the faint light Bridger saw that they had wounds of some kind.
"No good," Bridger said.
Terry looked around. "We can get to one of the other modules off the station by going down one of these passageways."
There were passageways left and right. And surely they would lead them somewhere—unless they led to a locked module—and then they'd have to snake their way to the sub bay.
Bridget looked behind him, and he saw two other figures coming toward them—
One of them looked like Ernst.
"Which way?" Bridger said. And Terry looked left and then right, and then—as if it were only a guess—she tore off down the right passageway.
As they ran, Bridger thought that there could be even more of them ahead, more of these people who weren't people anymore, their bodies hosts to something so strange, so alien, it belonged on another planet.
He had to wonder: What kept these incredibly opportunistic creatures trapped here? What had kept them imprisoned until now?
They reached another module, and looking at Terry, Bridger knew that she heard what he heard—the sound of feet behind them.
"The sub pool is down that way," she said.
"If there's time," he added.
Maklin had the station crew loaded on the shuttle—except for one man who stood on the dock.
"Sir, you'd better get in."
The man nodded. "Why, yes, I suppose that's a good idea-"
Captain Bridger had ordered Maklin to leave—after five minutes. And that time was almost up.
The man looked at Maklin. "You're not actually going to leave?"
Maklin looked around. He knew that the seaQuest was preparing to leave the area; he knew that what was happening inside the station was nothing compared to what might happen outside it if the vent area went.
"I was ordered to—"
Then the side doors leading to the small sub pool kicked open. The two of them turned around to see...
Captain Bridger running in.
"Mr. Ford!" Bachmann yelled. "The Captain's back, he's getting the shuttle under way..."
Ford looked at Crocker. "Hold our position. Chief. Keep me posted on their progress, Bachmann... and tell them to get a move on."
Bridger hopped onto the metal dock next to the shuttle, followed by Terry McShane.
"I told you to leave. Lieutenant."
"Sir, I—"
Bridger smiled. "Forget it. You're all loaded? And seaQuest is ready for the quarantine?"
Wouldn't it be fun if one of these people had a worm inside them... and we brought it on board, Bridger thought.
"Sir—she's standing by, but she's about to leave the area."
Bridger looked at Terry, then at the man on the dock... looking down at the door.
"Leave the area? What's the—"
"Sir, the vent area is unstable. There are reports of geologic activity of some kind."
"Great. Well, let's get—"
But the doors down at the far end opened, and then the people streamed in, the people with the wounds, like wounded shoppers at a white sale, bursting through the doors, each one carrying the telltale sign of something wrong—a big bloody gouge here, an opening in a stomach there. A few were linked, two people now one creature.
"Get in!" Bridger yelled.
Then the man next to Bridger held up his gun.
"No—you get in, Captain. If they keep coming, your sub won't get out of here."
"You'll be killed—"
"Captain... please, allow me one moment of bravery in my life."
Bridger hesitated, and then got in behind Maklin and Terry.
"Now shut the hatch!"
"Shut the hatch," Dell said.
So out of character for me, he thought, to play the hero. Not exactly a role I was auditioning for. Still, there was something to be said for this moment of glory.
He heard the shuttle hatch lock, the engines whirring.
Dell took a step off the metal dock.
"Okay, keep coming," he said, looking at the advancing crowd.
He raised the electron-mag gun. It was set to kill, naturally, though he doubted it would.
And, as he had suspected, the creatures looked at the sub, realizing that their only link to the outside world was leaving.
One of the worms began to slither out.
How strong was it? thought Dell. Could it grab onto the side of the sub, grab on, hold on—
All the way into seaQuest?
Dell fired. The worm recoiled. Another worm shot out, trying to reach the water of the sub bay, and Dell fired again.
Though the gun was set to kill, the worm still moved.
No matter—they still recoiled, and Dell walked toward them, firing, aiming at the masters inside the human hosts... while the shuttle disappeared from the pool.
Bridger saw Ford's face on the screen, and he looked mighty relieved.
"Mr. Ford, I'm not sure you should have waited. We could have rendezvoused near the surface...
Ford smiled. "I was just about to leave. Captain."
From the porthole, Bridger saw the station behind him as the shuttle streamed away from the vent area.
Everything was going to turn out all right, he thought. Hard to believe but—
There was a rumble. Maklin looked at Bridger, a sick expression on his face. Then Bridger turned back to Ford on the screen. His face showed no recognition. It was too small a rumble for Ford to hear. But then—
Ford turned away. "Mr. Ortiz tells me that there's been some activity, Captain."
"I know," Bridger said.
Bridger looked back at the Azores station personnel... A few minutes ago they had been relieved to be safe, and now—
There was another shock, then another—
The shuttle craft rocked left, and then right.
"Keep her steady, Lieutenant Maklin," Bridger said. "Hold onto the stick."
Then there was a big boom, and an underwater shock wave hit the shuttle, threatening to turn the sub upside down.
The image of Ford on the screen broke up and then reappeared.
"Take seaQuest out of here, Mr. Ford," Bridger said.
Bridger knew that Ford was dealing with the information pouring into the bridge. He looked back at the camera lens. "What's that, Captain? I'm having trouble understanding you."
Sure you are, Bridger thought.
"Captain," Maklin said. "Another blast like that and we're in trouble. The shuttle's not designed to withstand blows like that."
"Show me the vent field," Bridger said.
The screen displayed the view from the rear.
The field was dark, the station lights looking like small stars in the night-colored sea. But then there were small glowing plumes erupting from the tops of the chimneys, glowing, growing bigger.
First one, then another, until it was like a torchlight ceremony.
Bridger, who had studied such phenomena at Scripps Oceanographic, knew what to expect.
Terry, sitting right behind him, grabbed his arm.
"Are we going to make it?"
He turned to her and whispered, "Can you count to ten?"
She licked her lips. She mouthed the word. One...
The glowing plumes atop the smokers grew larger, until, like molten ice cream, the yellow lava dripped down the sides.
There was another shock wave, as a pair of chimneys had exploded, leaving an open hole, a glowing wound, spreading.
The seafloor was cracking, the lava building until—Bridger was sure—a major sea quake would turn the entire vent field into a fiery hell.
He looked at Terry. Four. Five. Six.
Seven.
"How far is seaQuest? Bridger asked.
Maklin was struggling to remain calm. "Almost there," Maklin said. "We're almost—"
"Let me see her."
There on the screen, so close, was the ship, looking like a sleeping phosphorescent creature of the deep.
My ship, thought Bridger... wondering if he'd ever be inside it again.
Another shock wave rattled the shuttle.
The people behind him remained stoically calm. They had been through a lot, and were still hanging in there.
After an eternity, Maklin said—
"Ready to enter seaQuest, sir."
"All set. Lieutenant," Ford said.
The shuttle headed for the brightly lit opening leading to the ship's mammoth moon pool. The seaQuest grew on the VR screen, until the well-lit entranceway filled it. Bridger held his breath, as he was sure everyone else did.
Terry whispered the word "Ten..."
And they were in.
Bridger wasted no time, even as the shuttle started to surface in the pool.
"Get us out of here, Mr. Ford."
The shuttle bobbed to the surface, and Maklin hit a button releasing the hatch. And as soon as the hatch was open, Bridger saw Shimura and three guards waiting on the dock, holding onto the railing as each shock wave rattled the ship.
There was a flash of silver, and Darwin leapt into the air.
Bridger smiled.
"Good to see you, Dar."
"Good to see you," Darwin said. Then, with Terry by his side, Bridger started for his bridge, to take command. The dolphin spoke, the voice clear through the speakers in the pool.
"Danger not... over."
They watched the end via the WSKRS.
Telephoto lenses scanned the vent area and yet kept the probes a reasonably safe distance away.
The entire vent area was now a burning yellow-gold mass laced with ribbons of red. The temperature in spots passed the thousand-degree mark.
The station had been slowly covered with a coating of the molten flow, now dripping down the natural slope of the vent area.
That ended it, thought Bridger. It was all over—the strange worms, the discovery of these chemosynthesizers who seemed to have their hungry eye on the rest of the planet.
Terry sipped a cup of tea. There was plenty of work to be done—files to be analyzed, contact with Noyce, discovering who had sent the phony transmission—Lucas was so excited about his discovery.
But for now they all watched the death of the vent area with an odd sort of reverence. The area seemed to flicker, and then explode, sending rock and lava flying up as the seafloor remade itself...
And the crew on the bridge of the seaQuest had to look away from the brilliant glow on the VR screens.