Terminal Run

The interior fluorescent lights clicked, buzzed, and flickered, finally illuminating the space in a wash of artificial brilliance. They had stepped off the ladder onto the second level of the command compartment, which was the biological ecosphere clean room deck. A narrow aisle led forward, the bulkheads made of steel and Plexiglas. The clear plastic looked into port and starboard cramped equipment bays, each with ducts and conduits and pipes feeding them from the overhead. One central bay had Plexiglas sides, with a mass of biological tissue floating in a clear liquid. While Krivak stared at the brain bay, Wang put his palm reverently on the glass and whispered, “Hello, One Oh Seven.”

Krivak shoved past him to the forward ladder bay leading vertically upward to the upper deck. Wang followed, climbing the ladder and emerging into the cramped interface deck. The deck was on the uppermost level extending the full beam of the ship, the bulkheads to port and starboard angling with the curve of the hull. The space with full overhead height was perhaps twenty feet fore-and-aft and a little less port-to-starboard. To Krivak’s left as he faced aft, on the starboard side of the ship, were two large cubicles, each containing a padded couch surrounded by dimly lit displays.

“What are these cubicles, Doctor?”

“Programming stations,” Wang said. “Allows a programmer to sit inside for long periods of time while interfacing with the computer with a virtual-reality apparatus that wraps around the programmer’s head. The forward one is called Interface Module Zero, the one next door Module One.”

Further aft was the half cylinder of the airlock, which straddled the command compartment and the compartment aft. There was an open unused space between the aft bulkhead of

Interface One and the aft compartment bulkhead. On the compartment’s port side was a wall of interface panels, much of them using the unusable space under the curve of the hull. This space was largely open, perhaps intended for future use in the event the ship were to be upgraded with a new system. Among the interface panels was one large cabinet used for storing spares. Amorn loaded equipment and supplies in the unused deck space, leaving the scuba equipment in the airlock. He lashed down the bags containing the other supplies with nylon straps so that they were secure in the event of a roll. Krivak explored the interior of Interface Module Zero.

“Nice setup,” Krivak said. “Better than I expected. You did not describe this very well.”

Wang shrugged. “You didn’t listen very well. We need to get you in Interface Zero and plugged into the computer.”

The deck rolled gently in the swells of the Atlantic, making Krivak’s stomach churn.

“Amorn, a word please. You are all finished loading equipment?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Get out the hatch before it shuts. You know what to do?”

“Yes, Mr. Krivak.”

“Keep your own pad computer ready to receive at all times. Pedro may need a severance package if any of the authorities discover this operation.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If this thing goes wrong, get rid of anyone who knows anything, destroy the computer records and the equipment, and go find Sergio and give him the news.”

“Yes, sir. Good luck.”

“You should hurry. The hatch will be shutting any moment.”

Amorn vanished down the forward ladder way to the middle level, leaving Wang and Krivak alone aboard the Snare. Although they were aboard, they were not in command. When the hatch shut, the ship would submerge and head west as Pedro’s instructions dictated, but it was still operating independently until Wang could link Krivak with the artificial brain on the middle-level deck.

“What about the hatch?” Wang asked.

“Pedro sent a message to the Snare to shut the hatch, submerge to a safe depth and depart the area by heading west, and to avoid any further periscope depth approaches and to stay out of radio contact. Now, we need to find the history module. Either destroy it or sever the link between the data highway and the consciousness of One Oh Seven. It won’t do for One Oh Seven to record to the history module that it surfaced per orders and brought on passengers, or what we’ll do with the Snare.”

“We can use the data in the module, Victor.”

“Don’t destroy it, just disconnect it from One Oh Seven. Take care of it, but make god damned sure it’s done right.”