Armen Gharabegian - Protocol 7

“Time to unwrap our present,” Simon told them. “We’ll need everyone’s help.”

This was another process they had discussed and trained for. Each of them carefully moved into position to unlock the connectors that attached the sections of the fabric.

As Max started to open his section of the cover, he got his first good look at the reflective “smart skin” that covered the craft, and his eyes opened up in absolute amazement. Fascinating, he told himself. It was both translucent and metallic at the same time, and absolutely without temperature-not cold, not warm, not even cool. It exactly matched the temperature of the air in general, and of Max’s own fingertips, so it felt rather unusual. Even his time in Special Forces had not exposed him to anything like this.

Hayden grinned as he looked over at Simon, whose contribution to the surface materials used on the Spector was pivotal. Simon shrugged easily and gave him the “go ahead” gesture.

“What you are looking at is an intelligent surface,” Hayden said, “thanks to research that was originally done by Simon. Once we turn this baby on, you will not be able to see it. The surface is charged with super molecules that not only conceal and mimic the environment but they are also intelligent.”

“Intelligent?” asked Samantha.

“Yes,” Simon answered, “but to activate the surface molecules to their maximum potential, the mainframe of the Spector needs to be fully functional, and that means going inside and powering up.” He turned to Hayden and almost bowed to him. “Hayden?” he said. “Would you do the honors?”

Hayden reached into his pocket and took out a device the size of a small cellular phone. He moved his hand across it to reveal the remote console. He spoke into it: “Hayden Sebastian Paulson,” then wrapped the device’s wristband around his right forearm, close to the wrist.

“Hayden Sebastian Paulson acknowledged. Welcome.”

“Welcome to you, Spector VI. Open up, please.” He motioned everyone to step aside, and what felt like a long minute later, the vessel shifted its skin like a recoiling insect. Layers of the exterior shifted, revealing what seemed to be a hybrid of a submarine and a tank. The metallic blue material resembled molded steel but seemed different than that somehow-more like fabric in some places and ceramic in others. The name was etched on the side in letters that glowed slightly and seemed to stand away from the surface itself: Spector VI.

The vessel automatically opened its hatch doors and turned on its interior lights. Hayden climbed up the molded steps to the hatch and entered, barely pausing long enough to motion for everyone to follow. Max, with a look of absolute focus, motioned for everyone to get in. “Come on,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before. Bring only your life support gear and essentials.”

The Munro started to sway more vigorously than before. Many of the team lurched and grabbed for handholds for support, trying to balance themselves, but the message was clear.

“We need to get this thing out of here sooner rather than later,” Hayden said. “Or something very unpleasant is going to happen.”

Ross Ice Shelf

Blackburn’s chopper descended in the pitch-black darkness of the early morning sky, completely undetected by radar as it approached the giant iceberg off the coast of Antarctica. The special landing pad floating on the ocean less than two hundred feet from the ice made it especially dangerous for the pilot to navigate the descent. Blackburn knew that this would be his last chance. It would take him eight hours to reach the asset, and if this time he was unsuccessful, he would not have another opportunity. As the chopper descended, he and his team geared up into the special suits that would shield them from radar and satellite detection. They were used to this procedure, and it was necessary for the secrecy of the mission. The chopper contacted the launch pad, magnetically connecting to the moving structure, and they felt the violent surge of the ocean as they exited. Twenty-five seconds later, the four men entered into the launch pad through a special hatch underneath the aircraft. As the door closed behind them, compressing the air to create a watertight seal, the chopper detached, disappearing silently like a ghost. Then, with a deafening hiss, the launch pad submerged into the icy waters in less than a minute.

Spector VI Boarding

The Spector had been fully provisioned for a six-week test cruise before it had been concealed in the Munro’s hold. The first thing Samantha and Ryan did was check to make sure the rations-stored in the same space that had been designed to be taken up by military gear-was filled and secure, and that the oxygen tanks were topped off and ready. They were. Then they moved to their second set of objectives even as the rest of the team made their way inside.

Andrew helped Nastasia climb aboard. She was carrying a small satchel. As she entered the first alcove, the satchel she was clutching onto fell from her hands. It hit the deck with a soft exploding sound, and the contents skittered across the floor.

Embarrassed and slightly annoyed, she moved quickly to gather the scattered belongings. Andrew bent to pick up a small white inhaler that had shot halfway across the alcove.

“Give me that!” she said frantically.

He looked up surprised and handed it over immediately. It was a standard, flat white inhaler used by people with asthma or other lung disorders. In fact, a lot of drugs were delivered as aerosols these days; it was simple, cheap, and sanitary.

“Sorry,” he said briefly. “Just trying to help.”

Nastasia colored for an instant, then composed herself. She took the inhaler from him as if she was receiving an offering. “I apologize,” she said, her Russian accent thicker than normal. “I am slightly embarrassed by my…condition.”

“No need to be,” he said. “I-”

“Come on, people,” Simon said sharply. “Let’s get moving!”

All the team members-now the crew-had assigned tasks, and they got to them now with a sense of renewed urgency. There was little conversation and no time for small talk. The pressure was mounting.

It took less time than they had anticipated to convert the experiment monitoring consoles that lined the bridge into actual work stations for team members who were taking over for the sidelined AIs. In less than an hour, Andrew and Ryan had rigged an eighty-inch holo-screen just in front and above the captain’s chair to deliver a direct feed of the visual data that the wireless cameras were receiving from outside the ship-a virtual picture window of the forward view, eighty degrees wide, just as Max had insisted on. He could even pan left and right an additional fifteen degrees each way, for a full one-hundred-twenty degree arc.

“That’s more like it,” he muttered as he ran his forward-facing holo-screen through its paces.

Barely more than an hour after boarding, the new crew of Spector was released to explore their tiny quarters and prepare for entry into the frigid Southern Sea. Simon, Max, Hayden, and Andrew found themselves alone on the bridge.

“Do you think we should tell the crew before we do it?” Andrew asked Simon.

Simon had thought it through. “No. There’s nothing they can do but worry.”

It was time to activate the power source-the incredibly powerful, dangerous energy system that had caused the military and the British government to make the decision to send the Spector halfway around the world for its initial test.

It truly was black-and-white decision, Simon knew. The power plant would either work as planned, or a fraction of a second after activation it would vaporize everything within a quarter-mile sphere of the source-point, leaving absolutely nothing behind-not even hard radiation.