Pandora's Brain

by Calum Chace

  Ivan pushed the Captain to one side, and began working some controls on a desk. Although the drone was not close enough to capture the expression on his face, it was clear that he was angry and frustrated. He banged his fist on the console.

  ‘Looks like he has just discovered that his weapons system is down,’ Norman grinned. ‘Next he’ll try the jamming system, but he’ll have no more luck with that.’

  Ivan grabbed the Captain’s sleeve and started remonstrating with him, gesturing frantically at the console. The Captain was evidently in full retreat, wanting nothing to do with Ivan’s desperate attempt to fend off the inevitable outcome. To the astonishment of everyone in the situation room, Ivan pulled out a pistol and pointed it at the Captain, waving him back towards the console. Slowly, reluctantly, the Captain sat down at the console and began trying to activate the controls.

  Ivan looked around the bridge, shouted some instructions, and stormed out.

  ‘Jeff, can you get one of those drones to follow Ivan? I want to know what he’s up to.’

  ‘I’m on it,’ Jeff replied, frowning in concentration.

  The chopper’s loud hailer rang out again.

  ‘Captain of the Eleusis. We are boarding now. Do not resist or you will be fired upon.’

  ‘Here we go . . .’ said Norman through clenched teeth.

  The drone had lost Ivan, but all eyes were now on the lead helicopter, which was preparing to land on the largest of the Eleusis’ two helipads. The sea was calm and there was an hour or so of daylight left, and the pilot was one of the most experienced and skillful in the world. The only question was what sort of reception he would receive.

  Two of the Eleusis’ crewmen rushed out onto the deck, and on the screen which had shown Captain Fitch, Matt could see that soldiers in the second helicopter were training guns on them. But the crewmen were waving signalling paddles, partly to assist the pilot, but mainly, Matt suspected, to indicate their full co-operation with the boarding.

  ‘So far so good, but I’d dearly like to know what Ivan is up to . . . Oh shit!’ Norman’s voice rose to a shout: ‘Jeff! Screen five! Tell Fitch that Ivan has a SAM launcher!’

  A loud whoosh, and then a huge explosion. A bright flash wiped out most of the screens for a couple of seconds. The helicopter had not touched down, and when the screens came back to life they showed that it had been shoved sideways in mid-air and tilted at an impossible angle by the missile’s close-range impact. The helicopter’s nose was destroyed. The cabin looked intact, but fires were raging in various parts of the machine. Men started jumping out to escape the fires, some onto the deck, some into the sea. The ones landing on the deck were jumping fifteen to twenty feet. Some managed to roll with their landing, but several landed awkwardly, collapsing sickeningly onto the deck and then writhing, their broken bodies struggling to get away from the falling body of the helicopter and burning pieces of debris.

  ‘My god. The son-of-a-bitch . . . Jeff, get me eyes on that bastard. I want him in one piece. Or at least alive.’ But Ivan had disappeared again.

  The helicopter slammed into the deck, a wounded beast. The blades hit first: they crumpled, slicing into the deck surface, shearing the gearbox, leaving the engine to scream as it lost its load. A marine was sliced in half as the blades hit, and several others were wounded as the cabin crashed onto the surface, with the landing rails dangling over the side. The body of the machine was balanced precariously at the edge of the ship, and slowly it tilted away from the surface. The noise of the engine subsided, but the sound of metal grinding against metal was hideous.

  ‘She’s going over!’ Norman shouted. ‘I hope everybody is out of that thing!’

  The helicopter stopped moving as its landing rails smashed through windows in the side of the ship and arrested its fall. But it was obvious the weight of the machine would break them, and after a few agonising moments, the rails collapsed, and sections of the panels in the ship’s flanks tore themselves free and peeled back from the vessel, like a can’s lid being prised off with a tin opener. The helicopter continued its slow-motion grinding metallic slithering and screaming down the side of the Eleusis towards the sea. It crashed into the water, and the fires burning its guts fizzed, popped, and illuminated the darkening sea. Its rails and other talons released the sections of ship plating they had grasped, and it surrendered to the cold water, disappearing slowly from view.

  Marines were already descending ropes from the second helicopter to the deck, and the third helicopter was hovering over the water as close to the ship as it dared, near where the first machine had gone down, looking for survivors in the sea. Wounded marines were being winched aboard these two remaining choppers. Their faces could not be seen from the situation room, but it was clear that several of them were in agony, with broken limbs and serious wounds, some of them bleeding profusely. Their colleagues struggled to haul them inside the helicopters and apply battlefield first aid.

  The Captain of the Eleusis was on deck, talking to Fitch. One of the screens showed his distraught face, and his pleading gesticulations. Fitch leaned in towards him, ordered him to be quiet and listen, and asked him a question. The Captain pointed towards the stern of the ship, and then downwards. Fitch pointed towards the bridge, barked an order, and shoved the Captain in that direction. Fitch turned and signalled to four of his men to follow him, and ordered the rest to go with the ship’s Captain to the bridge. Fitch’s party ran towards the stern.

  ‘He’s going after Ivan,’ said Norman. ‘Jeff, can you get him online and ask where Ivan is? Put Fitch on the main audio. And can we get drones to follow him, and get to where Ivan is ahead of him?’

  Jeff relayed the question through his headphone mike, and Fitch’s reply came into the room for everyone to hear. He was breathing heavily but sounded completely in control.

  ‘The Captain says there’s a mini-sub near the stern, and he reckons that is where Ivan is headed. He is going to try and disable the sub from the bridge, but it has autonomous power and control systems: it’s designed to operate in the event of a general power failure throughout the rest of the ship.’

  The analysts looked at each other, shocked by this mention of a mini-sub. Three of them began inspecting the screen showing the schematic, searching for its most likely location so they could send it to Fitch.

  ‘Will there be resistance from anyone else apart from Ivan?’ Norman asked.

  ‘The Captain doesn’t think so. My men are going with him to the bridge, and one has gone to the small arms locker. The Captain doesn’t think there are any more SAMs on board – but then again he says he didn’t know about that one.’

  ‘Have you made contact with our embedded agent yet? Or the scientist, Dr Metcalfe?’

  ‘Not yet, but I understand the agent’s orders are to remain on or near the bridge once he had disabled the defence systems? In which case my men will sweep him up. We’re looking for Dr Metcalfe, but there’s no sign of him yet. The Captain didn’t know about him. I presume your agent didn’t either.’

  ‘Correct,’ Norman confirmed. ‘We’re sending a couple of the drones on ahead of you so we have eyes on the mini-sub before you get there.’

  ‘Roger that. Out.’

  Norman turned away from the screen. ‘Where are my drones, Jeff? I don’t see that sub yet.’

  ‘The sub wasn’t on the schematic, sir.’ He pointed at two screens on the other side of the room. ‘Those screens are showing the feed from the drones we have looking for it.’

  ‘There!’ cried one of the other analysts, as one of the screens centred on an orange vehicle about the size of a transit van. It was rocking gently, suspended on rails which led to a pair of bay doors, and beyond them the open sea. As the drone got closer, they could see that two men were preparing to enter the sub. As the drone got closer still, it became clear that one of them was holding a gun in the back of the other.

  ‘Dad!’ Matt screamed. Norman had realised the same thing and was relaying the
information to Captain Fitch.

  ‘Fitch! Ivan is boarding the sub with Dr Metcalfe as a hostage. Are you nearly there?’

  ‘Not far off. Is he armed?’ the Captain replied.

  ‘Looks like he has a pistol,’ Norman said. ‘But we don’t know much about the sub. Ivan may have guns on board, and the sub may have a weapons system of its own. Proceed with caution. Dr Metcalfe’s safety is priority, and take Ivan alive if you possibly can. But whatever happens, do not allow that sub to leave the ship!’

  ‘Understood. Out.’

  Within a few moments, Fitch had the sub surrounded, but he and his men couldn’t risk approaching it more closely until they knew its weapons status. The drones were inspecting the exterior, and there were no obvious gun ports. Just then a voice was heard coming from the sub.

  ‘Hello gentlemen. Forgive me if I don’t offer you a gracious welcome. I assume I am speaking to Victor Damiano and his soldier friend, Colonel Hourihan? I’m sorry about your helicopter, colonel. That is a regrettable incident which is no doubt going to cause a great deal of trouble. It’s a pity you couldn’t have made a more conventional appearance and we could have sorted this out like civilised men.’

  ‘Son-of-a-bitch,’ muttered Norman, but addressed himself to Fitch. ‘Can you hook us up so I can talk to this cocksucker?’

  Fitch answered by addressing Ivan. His voice seethed with controlled fury.

  ‘Ivan, my name is Captain Fitch. I’m in charge of the boarding party. You have killed at least two of my men and wounded several others, but my orders are to escort you to the US alive, and that is what I intend to do. Colonel Hourihan can hear you, and I’m patching him through to my hailer so he can talk to you direct. Go ahead, colonel.’

  ‘The game’s up, Ivan.’ Norman said. ‘You know that. I’m not going to offer you an amnesty or any other kind of deal because I know you wouldn’t buy it. But things can get much worse here if we don’t all play our cards sensibly. First thing you need to do is to let Dr Metcalfe leave the sub. Do it now, Ivan.’

  Ivan’s reply was deadly calm. ‘But David here is my only trump card, colonel. Please don’t treat me like a stupid person. It is unhelpful as well as impolite. Now here’s how this is going to play out. You want David here, and I want to depart in peace in my little submarine. I am happy to return David to you: it will be some considerable time before I could use his services again anyway. But obviously you won’t allow me to leave if I release him now. So he is going to have to accompany me until I arrive at a safe port. Then he can go; you have my word on that.’

  ‘Now you are treating us like stupid people, Ivan. How do you expect to proceed on the basis of a verbal reassurance from a man who has murdered at least two scientists, kidnapped others, and killed and wounded a number of marines?’

  There was a pause before Ivan spoke again.

  ‘We seem to have arrived at an impasse, colonel. If I release Dr Metcalfe now, how do I know you won’t let your trigger-happy friend here just blow this submarine to smithereens? He is probably itching for the opportunity. I’m going off-line now. Buzz me when you are prepared to agree to my terms, or when you have come up with a more constructive suggestion.’

  A low hum could now be heard in the sub bay. Lights snapped on underneath the vehicle.

  ‘Colonel,’ said Jeff. ‘I think he’s preparing to launch the sub.’

  ‘Can we stop him?’ Norman asked.

  ‘We haven’t found a way to over-ride the sub controls, but there are various pieces of winching equipment in the bay. Some of the larger units can be controlled from the bridge, and Ivan may not be able to over-ride them. We may be able to manoeuvre them into positions which will prevent him from launching the sub.’

  ‘Do it!’, ordered Norman. Then he addressed Fitch. ‘Captain, we’re going to move some equipment around inside the bay to stop Ivan leaving. Tell your men to watch out.’

  ‘Copy that,’ Fitch replied.

  Jeff and a couple of the other agents studied the schematic of the Eleusis on one of the screens, and compared them with the images of the bay provided by the drones. They talked to the Captain on the bridge. A few moments later, a couple of mobile cranes and some large wheeled winching equipment started to move around inside the bay area. The sub was manoeuvring toward the bay doors, which were now starting to open. The sea was visible just below the level of the doors. One of the cranes clanked against the sub, which rocked a little on its cradle. The other crane and the rest of the mobile equipment were moving to block the sub’s route to the bay doors. The engine noise from the sub grew louder, and the vessel accelerated towards the door. But Ivan had lost the race: the sub ground to a halt, blocked by an ungainly assortment of cranes and winching gear.

  The sub reversed, and its engines revved again. It moved to ram the blocking equipment. But instead of moving the machinery out of the way, it became entangled and stuck. The sub’s engines screamed like an enraged elephant, but the vessel was immobile. After a few more moments, the sub’s engines fell silent.

  ‘Colonel, we’re confident the sub has no weapon systems,’ reported Jeff.

  ‘Thanks Jeff. Captain, we believe Ivan has no offensive capability apart from his pistol. I suggest you approach the submarine with caution and see if you can force the door open.’

  ‘Copy that, Colonel.’

  As the Captain and his men approached the sub they could hear muffled voices. They could not make out the words, but the volume increased as the two men inside started shouting at each other. The Captain reached the door and started trying to turn its wheel.

  Just at that moment there was a cry, then a crash, and two shots rang out. Then there was silence.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Silence blanketed both the Eleusis and the situation room.

  Quickly, the marines set to work. They could not open the door manually, so one of them applied some plastic explosive to the lock and they all took cover. The explosion echoed round the situation room as well as the submarine bay area, and the mini-sub’s door jumped, swung open, and hung on its hinges at a lazy angle. Waving the smoke away from his face, Fitch was the first to enter. Moments later his voice broke the news from inside the sub.

  ‘Ivan is dead but Dr Metcalfe is alive! He’s unconscious: it looks like he took a nasty blow to the temple. I think we’d better not move him until a medic gets here.’ Back in the situation room, Jeff put up his hand to let Norman know he didn’t need to say anything: the medic was already on his way.

  Matt almost fainted with relief, slumping like a marionette with cut strings. The adrenaline of the last hour was draining out of him and he was stunned, relieved, but still afraid that his father might be badly hurt.

  ‘He’s coming round,’ they heard Captain Fitch say. All heads turned to the main screen.

  The marine with the head cam providing the feed to the screen was inside the sub now, and looking at David. David was lying on the floor: his eyes opened and he looked up at the medic groggily. The medic told him not to try to speak for a few moments. The camera looked up. A bit further ahead, Ivan lay with his head in a pool of blood, and a couple of marines were checking his body for booby-traps. ‘He’s clean,’ one of them pronounced.

  The camera looked around the inside of the sub. There was a sizeable hole in one of its instrument panels, and smoke was rising where a small fire had been extinguished.

  ‘Looks like Ivan shot the lights out before he left,’ Norman said.

  The camera looked back at David, who was sitting up, shakily. He muttered something incomprehensible to the medic, his movements uncoordinated.

  ‘You took a hard blow to the head, sir,’ said the medic. ‘But you’re safe now. It’s all over; you’re in good hands.’

  Gradually, David appeared to gather his wits. ‘Ivan . . . ?’ he asked, looking around, and saw the answer to his own question. He looked as if he was about to be sick, but after a few moments with his eyes shut he recovered.

  �
��Sir, your son is on the line,’ Captain Fitch said. Would you like to speak to him? If you speak to me he can hear you.’

  ‘What? Is he here? On the ship?’

  ‘No, Dad I’m in the US Embassy in London. But I can see you on the screens here!’ Matt blurted out.

  ‘Hang on, son,’ Norman said. ‘He can’t hear you yet. Jeff, can you patch us in?’

  ‘Got it. You’re through now,’ replied Jeff.

  ‘Dad, Dad, I’m here! Hurry up and get home!’

  Norman smiled as a mixture of joy and wonder illuminated the image of David’s face on the big screen. ‘We’re going to put you on a chopper and get you back here right away, Dr Metcalfe,’ he said. ‘But can you tell us what happened there? We heard two shots and a crash, and then everything went silent.’

  David rubbed his temple gingerly and looked at his hand to see if there was blood on it. To his great relief, Matt could tell by his father’s expression that there wasn’t.

  ‘All I know for sure is that Ivan hit me hard on the head with the gun barrel. It’s obvious that he shot himself after that, but by the look of things, not before he took out the access port to his main computer stacks.’

  David looked round again at the smoking instrument panel, as if looking for clues as to what had happened. ‘Yes, I remember now: that’s what he said he was going to do. Once he realised he couldn’t get the sub off the ship he knew he was caught. He was enraged and desperate. He said that he refused to rot in jail while the US military secretly created the first machine intelligence, and put the whole world at risk. He aimed his gun at that panel. I tried to argue with him, and I made a grab for the gun – probably not the smartest thing to do. I guess that’s when he hit me.’

  David groaned and lay back on the floor.

  ‘Dad!’ Matt shouted.

  David put up his hand to signal that he was OK, just exhausted and fuzzy-headed. Norman put his hand on Matt’s shoulder and spoke to David.

  ‘I think we’d better leave you to recover with the medic for a while, while we debrief the marines. We’ll get you on the chopper and then bring you straight here to the Embassy, where you can see your family.’