7:18 A.M.

Thatcher munched trail-mix as he watched artillery shells prick white plumes off the Trident’s bow.

The Zodiac drifted into the wide foamy plain of the Nicholas’s wake. The salt was thick in the air as the billions of bubbles churned by the frigate’s propellers fizzed on the surface of the sea around him.

He squinted with grim satisfaction at each delayed concussion that rolled over the waves. He was betting that after the chaos subsided, anyone on the Trident would be lucky to be alive. Certainly none of them would be able to exonerate themselves even if they were. It was also extremely likely that the hendropods would be killed along with the rats when the ship was finally boarded by the Navy and they were discovered.

Thatcher knew his story was rock solid, that his reputation would win the battle of credibility, and that history would forever cast the others in shades of doubt, no matter the outcome. The odds were that he would gain even more stature before all was said and done simply by opposing them, even if by some miracle they did survive. He had, after all, witnessed them smuggling live, extremely dangerous specimens off Henders Island, in direct violation of a Presidential order, a crime tantamount to global terrorism. And the scene of the crime was about to be vaporized forever by a nuclear weapon.

He had been hoping that he would not have to call any attention to the Trident-the long shot he had pictured was the voracious rats taking over the ship, which would have eventually run aground or been boarded so that the rats would then start spreading at some port of call or random landing point. And the seeds of mankind’s destruction would have been planted, though too slowly to ever reach him in Costa Rica. What a show it would be to watch the Earth’s man-centric ecosystem collapsing across whole continents during the last twenty years of his life.

But he could settle for the crew and passengers of the Trident discredited as terrorists and quite possibly killed in a confrontation with the Navy; there was really no downside.

“Free will, Dr. Binswanger,” Thatcher goaded the younger scientist from afar, reciting the Redmond Principle, “can and will do anything.” He bit his lower lip as he realized that he wasn’t a fraud, after all, and the notion seized him with a paroxysm of laughter. After doing away with his own son, and now possibly an entire intelligent species, if not his own, he had categorically proven the Redmond Principle, all by himself.


7:20 A.M.

The Navy ships continued to close on the Trident as another warning shot erupted off her starboard side.

“Hurry it up, Cynthea,” Captain Sol urged. Then, on the radio, he said, “We are complying! We are complying!”

“All hands on deck now, Captain!” came the response.

Cynthea still clung to the phone. “Barry, this is television history! No-it’s BIGGER THAN TELEVISION, sweetie! Come on! Say yes!”


7:21 A.M.

As the crew gathered at the prow of the Trident, Zero and Peach set up the videophone equipment, looking over their shoulders at the two huge Navy ships bearing down port and starboard.


7:21 A.M.

“Hender,” Andy shouted through the door of the control room. “We have to go!”


7:21 A.M.

The Zodiac rolled over a series of high swells, as Thatcher watched the Navy ships closing in on the Trident.

He recognized the bottom of a jar of Planters cashews buried under some rubber fins and scuba gear. He dug it out and was disappointed when he twisted off the lid to see that there were only three left.


7:21 A.M.

Cynthea furiously negotiated with the SeaLife producers on the phone and finally played her trump card: “We could all get KILLED, Barry-on LIVE television!”


7:22 A.M.

Cynthea ran down the stairs from the bridge toward the bow, screaming, “OK, set it up! Set it up! We’re going live right now! Don’t ask! Where are they?”

The crew of the Trident was clustered on the prow, with the two ships looming in the background, perfectly framed. But no hendropods.

Running to the prow at full tilt, Cynthea stepped in front of the camera and played reporter. “What remains of the crew of the Trident is now being threatened by the United States Navy. Abandon ship or go down with the ship is their order. Why?” She looked in vain toward the companionway but saw no sign of the hendros as she vamped. “Because today we have saved a remarkable species from total destruction!”

Another shot exploded directly off the bow.

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