David Golemon - Legend

"Look, Toad, she needs about another two tons of electronics. Hell, she needs her whole navigation and mapping system. So unless you can write me a check for about five and a half million dollars and get the Department of the Navy and the president of the United States to give her to you, you're up shit's creek without a paddle, boy. Besides, I'm done kowtowing to those bastards anyway. You can't have her."

"Well, Chief, I only go up the creeks I'm told to sail, so however much and what it is that you need, I'll have it here within the day, and the people you need to assist you in installing it," Carl said as he brought out his cell phone.

The master chief looked at Carl and then at Danielle, who smiled and nodded her head, letting him know Carl was serious.

"Put the damned phone away," he said. "I'm not the whore you seem to think I am, Toad. The answer is no!"

Carl stopped dialing. "Where we're going, we'll need one hell of a boat. This is your chance to get this baby into action and prove what she can do. They stuck you down here to keep you out of the way, Chief, so that means they don't think you have anything to offer the navy anymore."

"You think you can play me like a fiddle? Well, my boy, you have another fuckin' think comin'. I would just as soon burn this thing as to—"

"There are college kids down there, Chief. They haven't been heard from in weeks. We need you. And we need Teacher ." Danielle held Jenks's glare with her own softer version. Then his features relaxed and his eyes traveled down to her chest once again, like a magnet drawn to steel.

"Kids, huh?"

"A few of them the same age as your granddaughter."

Jenks addressed Carl. "Low blow, Toad." He angrily tossed the stub of cigar away. "Well, you gonna make that call or not? I need a lot of shit to complete this tub!"

Carl made the call.

Danielle looked Teacher over again and hoped the vessel was everything the master chief said she was. They would need every possible advantage for where they were going.

As for Carl, he was more practical. He just hoped the gleaming white experimental boat would float.

Niles stood looking at the old computer center used by the Event Group. The complex contained custom-made filing cabinets and shelving that stored a million or more accounts of historical, mythic, or legendary events — everything from the location of Atlantis to the incredible stories of yetis, the mythical beast of the Himalayas, to the suspected ancient power sources discovered by Egypt three thousand years before.

"Some computer center you have here, Mr. Director. A little bit behind the times, aren't we?" Ryan asked as he ran a hand along one of the old filing cabinets.

"The information covered in these files, Lieutenant Ryan, is the whole of our ancient and modern world. Facts and stories, even rumors are stored here. The combined knowledge of the ancient world started this facility."

"And you expect us to find something here, sir?" Ryan said as he brushed some dust off his hands.

"Actually, we have the Librarian. One of the first Crays ever installed in a government facility," Niles said as he made his way over to a small cubicle. "At first it was one of those card-wielding Univac machines that we updated from time to time, but we eventually upgraded in 1980 to a system that was called, naturally enough, the Librarian."

Niles used a key to open the door to the cubicle that sat in the middle of the gymnasium-size storage area. The room was dark and dank and had a musty smell that made Ryan wiggle his nose.

"Smells like the old Librarian may have kicked the proverbial bucket, sir."

Niles ignored the comment and flipped on the overhead lights, illuminating the small computer station whose speakers were mounted on both sides of the large desk. There was only one chair and Niles sat in it. Ryan looked around and decided to just cross his arms and wait.

"The auditory system was installed two years ago by Pete and me to make research easier for historians of the group. I'm afraid this voice isn't as feminine as what we have with Europa, but it's kind of quaint."

Ryan watched as Niles adjusted a microphone in front of him and pushed a small button, activating a small but adequate monitor pop-up on the right side of the desk.

"Let's just hope what Professor Zachary erased on Europa back home is still in here."

"Hello, Librarian," Niles said into the microphone.

The monitor came to life as the speakers did.

Good afternoon, Dr. Compton, or would you like to be addressed as Director Compton now? the male voice asked, referring to his promotion since the last time they'd spoken.

To Ryan it sounded disturbingly like the voice of HAL from 2001: A Space Odyssey , the same computer that went nuts and killed everyone.

"Dr. Compton is fine. Librarian, can you access my last log-on to your sister system, Europa in Nevada?"

Yes, Dr. Compton, I can; I enjoy interfacing with Europa. "I imagine you do," Ryan mumbled.

Rear Admiral Elliott Pierce was studying an intelligence brief, on the continuing withdrawal of Iranian armor divisions from the border with Iraq, when a knock sounded at his door. He summoned the person in and was given a note.

"This just came in from Signal, sir."

Pierce took the note from the young signalman and excused him. As he read the communication, his face fell. He immediately picked up the phone and called a number at the White House. The president's national security advisor picked up on the first ring.

"Ambrose," the voice said.

"We have a problem," Pierce said softly, for no other reason than he felt deceitful.

"What?"

"The Red Flag we placed on the National Archives file that Professor Zachary used, which is cross-referenced with our database, has just been activated."

"Jesus Christ, by whom?"

"It says terminal 5656, but there is no terminal 5656, according to our intelligence records."

"So, maybe it's a glitch," the national security advisor said in an annoyed tone.

"I don't believe that much in coincidence, do you?" Pierce asked smugly.

"Well, what can you do?"

"My signals team was able to track the terminal's location; you won't believe it."

"We don't have time for this. Where is it?"

"Arlington National Cemetery — the mansion's maintenance facility, of all places."

"Goddammit, what in the hell is going on here?"

"I don't know, but we'd better get someone over there or this could get rather sticky."

"Do you have access to outside nonmilitary people for this?"

"Yes, and they're right down the road. They can be onsite in twenty minutes with equipment that could trace this phantom computer terminal. Are you going to say anything to him about this?"

"Hell no, just take care of it, he's got enough on his mind already. He has a meeting with the president about an appearance at a fund-raiser for his campaign tonight. Just eliminate this problem any way you can, understand?"

"This is getting to be too costly. We're going to hang for this if we're caught."

"Then the object here is — what? Not to get caught. And don't inform the others about this development, they're getting cold feet enough as it is. Eliminate whoever is snooping into that file."

The director of Naval Intelligence hung up the phone and removed a small black book from his desk drawer. Whoever had accessed that unlisted computer terminal wouldn't live long enough to benefit from it.

"Okay, Librarian, is your interface complete with Nellis complex?"