Page 147 of Clive Cussler's Quantum Tempest
“You mean someone’s hijacked it?”
“Could be.”
“Who? Why?” Linda asked.
“Someone who doesn’t want anyone else to have Project Q,” Cabrillo said as he turned in his chair.
“Comms—hail theBaktun.”
?
Aboard theBaktun
The last of the Project Q techs, a young Thai national, thundered up the steel staircase in a mad dash for the lifeboats. Her backpack brushed roughly against Stokes without apology as he scrambled down into the bowels of the dying ship and the lab within.
The flashing red lights cast a hellish strobe effect across the darkened expanse, the nightmare phenomenon amplified by the shrieking alarms and automated voice commands still ringing overhead.
Stokes knew exactly where Bose would be. He dashed over to her side standing at the base of the great containment tank holding her precious creation.
“We’ve got to go. Now,” Stokes said, tugging on her arm.
She shook him off, tears streaming from her eyes. “I can’t leave.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not a child, it’s a machine…a robot.”
Bose wheeled around and slapped him hard across the face.
“How dare you.”
Stokes saw the wounded fury in her eyes. He began to mount an argument about how she could start over again, build a new Neural Reef somewhere else, and earn her fame in due time. But before he could draw another breath he knew that would be as calloused as a soul-numbed preacher telling a grieving graveside mother she should just get pregnant again.
In truth, he understood her pain. He even felt it. TheBaktunwas his pride and joy, an extension of his own storm-tossed soul. Stokes smiled to himself. His ship had performed magnificently today, killing a mighty Chinese warship and most of its crew in mere seconds. It wasthe most satisfying moment of his life and he knew he would never get such an opportunity again.
“My apologies,” he told her as he gathered her up in his arms. She sobbed deeply into his chest.
The radio on his hip squawked. Cabrillo’s voice screeched over its tiny speaker, barely audible above the alarms.
“Baktun! Baktun!This isOregon. Do you read me?”
Stokes kept one arm wrapped around Bose as he keyed his radio.
“This is Captain Stokes. What do you want?”
“Incoming missile headed your way. Ten minutes to impact. What’s your status?”
“I suspect you know, old boy. You hijacked my weapons and engines. Well played, I must say. We’re dead in the water, literally and figuratively.”
“I’ve released your engines. Clear away from the area immediately. We’ll cover you with air defense as best we can and rendezvous to take on any of your crew. My medical team is on standby.”
“A beau geste, Captain. But too late, I’m afraid.”
“Is Dr.Bose still with you?”
“She is, indeed.”
Stokes hurled the radio against the nearest bulkhead, smashing it to bits, then gathered Bose back into his bosom.
“I’ll not abandon you, my precious orchid, nor my beloved ship.”
