by John Hunt
“No!” Petur snarled. “Turn your camera on. If you want me to lie, I’ll lie.”
Marcos sneered triumphantly. “You will not need to lie. You sank our ship. No one can doubt it. We have the images on videotape.”
Elisa spoke up. “Be careful, Petur. You know how well they spin things. They will use anything you say to destroy the sympathy the international community has for us.”
“Shut up, Maria!” Marcos cried. “I will not for a moment longer hesitate to have you killed!”
Petur looked at the woman he knew as Elisa. “Our fat friend here is leaving us little choice. Stay quiet for now.” Turning to the cameraman, he said, “I told you to turn that camera back on.”
While the man fidgeted with some buttons, Petur looked around at his friends. Only he and Elisa had been mistreated. Isaac was tending to Elisa, in a surprisingly tender fashion for the man. Dr. Standall had been allowed to come to her side now, too. Joseph, Otto, and Sophia remained in the corner.
Petur looked straight at the camera lens. His visage had become familiar throughout most of the world. With his face brutally bloodied by Marcos, there would be little doubt to observers of this tape that any confession he might make will have been made under duress.
“Governor Marcos is correct. He has stated that a submarine launched a torpedo that struck and sank a Mexican destroyer. That submarine, in turn, has been sunk. It is indeed true that we have certain defensive capabilities to protect our substantial investments on these islands. Furthermore, we in fact have recently brought a submarine here, as no doubt you will hear from other sources, although we used it not for defense but for other purposes.”
Petur continued. “While the submarine proceeded with its mission, the rest of us on the island were able to finish preparations for another defensive strategy. You see, we have developed an entirely new concept in offensive weaponry, and a good offense is the key to our defense.”
Marcos pushed Petur away from the camera. “What are you talking about!” he yelled. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Petur straightened himself up, standing tall. “Governor Marcos, I was just about to show you what I am talking about. Sit back, for God’s sake!” He turned toward Commander Vasquez. “It seems that your governor is very excitable. Why don’t you take him over to that corner window. You will see, and you will hear. You can always erase anything on the videotape that you don’t want others to see.”
Marcos allowed himself to be guided by Vasquez to the northwest corner of the building. From there, if one looked to the right, the peak of the mountain with its prominent domed observatory could be seen. To the left, the view was southwest out over Paradise 3 and the OTEC. They could see where the small lifeboats worked among the waves, picking up the last of the Mexican sailors still floating in the water and depositing them safely on the shores of Paradise 4.
In between the mountain and the other islands, and directly to the west, the low outline of Paradise 5 was readily visible, surrounded by the blue-green waters of the Pacific.
Paradise 5 had never been attractive. Few people had taken to the place. And so even now, the reason for its lack of vegetation, unique in the island chain in this respect had not been determined. Granted, the islanders had not investigated this much. It was still on the list of things to do. There was a long list of things to do.
Petur had maneuvered his way back to the front of the camera. The blinking light on top told him it was running again. “As I was saying, we have had the opportunity to complete our development of the islands’ defensive system. Will you be so kind as to turn the camera toward the mountain peak?”
The cameraman complied after moving to the windows and aiming his camera upward at a fairly steep angle.
“Watch closely, everyone. Look at the observatory.”
The Mexicans each moved a bit to improve their view while still keeping a wary eye out on their charges. As they watched the top of the mountain, the observatory began rotating, and the dome gradually slid downward on all sides. In less than a minute the dome was gone, exposing the prominent shining cylinder of the telescope within. Behind the telescope, the narrow tower that served as the focal point of the island’s solar energy array began rising. Soon it stood high above the round base of the observatory, and was now the highest object on the island. As the tower rose, the telescope moved downward until it was pointing its great mirror down below the horizontal and out over the water.
“Look at the mountainside!” one of the Mexican soldiers cried out.
The hundreds of mirrors whose job it was to direct the sun’s rays to the solar panels on the tower had lifted up above the vegetation, and all as one began turning to coordinate the power of their reflected beams. Gradually, each mirror directed itself at its appointed angle.
“And now you see our solar array in full operation. We think it is an impressive feat.” Petur stepped to the front of the camera again. “And do you know what? This highly advanced solar-power-generating technique is now antiquated. We don’t use it anymore. We don’t need it anymore. You see, we have that!” He pointed toward the OTEC in the southwest, now sitting low on the water off the coast of Paradise 3. “That gives us all the power we need. But soon we can do without the OTEC, for as you know, we have created controlled nuclear fusion.”
Marcos sneered. “You will not have an opportunity to ‘do without’ your OTEC, Mr. Bjarnasson. In fact, I doubt you will ever see it again after today.”
“Perhaps, Governor Marcos; perhaps.”
Marcos looked at him closely. “What kind of bluff are you attempting to present to us?”
“No bluff. I am just showing you the sights. You wanted all the information you could get about our science and engineering. I am giving you a front-row seat. Now, why don’t you look out there?” Petur pointed out over the island toward Paradise 5. “You see that barren rock out there? Yes, I don’t think it’s attractive either. But, attractive or not, it’s certainly conveniently located.”
Enrico had moved back to them, and now interrupted. “What is your point, Bjarnasson?”
“My point is that we have little need for that island out there. In fact, it is blocking our view of the rest of the Pacific, to some extent at least.”
“And so…?” the elder Marcos inquired impatiently.
“With our principle target, your warship, already destroyed, we have to demonstrate our power with another target.”
Joseph looked at Isaac, questioningly. Isaac shook his head slowly, unable to discern what Petur was attempting to accomplish.
“The same technique that I am about to demonstrate can be applied equally well on a smaller scale, to items much smaller than Paradise 5. Say, for example, a luxury cruising yacht. Or items somewhat larger, such as a city thousands of miles away.”
“This is a pitiful attempt at self-preservation, Mr. Bjarnasson. Your submarine is sunk. You have no weapons. Your cause is lost.”
Petur pointed to the telescope on the peak, now aimed directly at Paradise 5. “Did you know, Juan Marcos, that someone has been listening to our conversation? Everything we have said has been heard.” Juan Marcos did not see any significance to the comment. “And what I say next will be overheard also. Professor,” said Petur, “Now looks like a perfect time for Phase 1.”
A beam of light emanated from the top of the tower on the peak of the mountain, aiming toward the base of the large telescope’s mirror. A moment later six thin but bright shafts of violet light shot out of the end of the telescope, slicing through the air. Through the thick glass of the windows at the top of Science Hall, the sound of the frantically exploding air, unhappily caught in paths of the six near ultra-violet lasers, was audible as a high pitched hum.
“If you were on the mountain now, you would smell the ozone from the oxidized air. It has a rather sweet smell to it. As it is, in a few moments I think we’ll be breathing that ozone even down here. Not for long though, so don’t worry about it.”
The violet laser beams were not precisely parallel, but rather, they gradually came together as they crossed over the water, aiming toward the center of Paradise 5. The sailors from the sunken ship, now clambering to the safety of Paradise 4, looked upward at the glistening wires of light. The Mexicans still at sea on Marcos’s yacht, too, stared at where the beams came together on the island.
Back in Science Hall, Petur stated, “I suggest you watch Paradise 5.” All eyes turned to Paradise 5. The observers all focused their attention on the violet laser beams coming together in the center of the place. The camera was rolling, after having panned along the mountain for a time, and was now aiming directly at Paradise 5.
Petur moved over to the cameraman. “You may wish to go wide angle. There is more than just the island to watch.” He paused for a moment, looked over to Elisa, and winked.
Another beam of light emerged from the center of the telescope. This one was white and accompanied by the harsh slap of nearby thunder, sounding like an explosion. The beam of white light stayed within the confines of its surrounding lasers, thus coming to a point along with all the others at one spot on Paradise 5.
The sweet scent of ozone began to permeate the air system of the building, noted by everyone, but only subconsciously. Their conscious minds were all concentrating on the island under assault of the combined lasers. And then, in a flash, the island disappeared.
Several men gasped. So did Elisa. Joseph cried out. Where there had just been an island, surrounded by water, there was now a giant hole. There had been no explosion. The island was simply gone. The ocean for a radius of one kilometer around the island was gone. Where it all had been, there was now only a void. The void was as deep as it was wide. There was a hole in the Earth.
In actuality, the void was a vacuum — a sphere two kilometers across that contained absolutely nothing. Nature abhors a vacuum. It does everything it can to fill it. And so, air rushed in, and water rushed in.
The effect was that of a localized cataclysm. The ocean drained out of the lagoon and away from the beaches of Paradise 1, racing toward the deep hole in the ocean floor. The sudden pressure change in the atmosphere prompted the loudest thunderclap ever heard by human ears, as the void drew in air from the surrounding region. Windows in houses throughout the island blew outward, bursting in glittering shards of glass. Science Hall, with windows thicker than all other buildings, groaned under the stress of the sudden pressure change, but its glass did not fracture.
People began to cry. Some held their heads as their eardrums stretched outward, straining the slender nerves and blood vessels running through them. It was exceptionally painful. Those who were not in pain felt the pressure change just as acutely in another way: as air was pulled from their lungs. Despite their discomfort, all watched the scene unfold.
The waters rushing in to fill the void did so in no coordinated fashion. It was a mad dash as the water rolled down the side of the hole in the ocean, crashing into the bottom and exploding upward in a towering geyser. Steam spouted up as well, a mushroom-shaped formation of broiling water and vapor.
As the void filled, the waves came back. The steam was too dense to see through at first, but then from within the fog the waves emerged. Surging outward from the center, they raced in all directions — toward the OTEC, toward Paradise 1, toward Marcos’s yacht, toward Paradise 4, where the men from the sunken ship were frantically scrambling toward higher ground.
The Mexican luxury yacht was least able to tolerate the onslaught. As the giant swells approached, men ran below decks. Water crashed into the hull, tossing the boat upward violently and spraying the decks with salt water. Thrown about wildly, the boat was taken broadside and turned on her side, one propeller spinning freely in the air. Miraculously, the next wave hit the hull at an angle that served to right the vessel, preventing what would otherwise have been a certain foundering.
Somehow the skipper regained control and turned the ship to take the subsequent wave bow first. Each crest was as high as the foredeck. Up the wave the yacht leapt, and then crashed down into the subsequent trough. The following wave broke over the bow, sweeping the deck clean of anything not permanently fixed, and much that had been fixed. Though they came in a furious onslaught, the waves were gone as fast as they had appeared. The yacht stayed afloat and not a man was lost.
The OTEC took the waves as if designed just for such an event. The machine was low to the water, in its operating position; the long cylinder penetrated into the ocean’s depths. The waves in succession smashed over the top of the saucer section. The OTEC barely even budged. Later, it would be discovered that there was no damage to it whatsoever.
The waves, when they reached Paradise 1, crashed over the beaches atop the coral reefs surrounding the emptied lagoon. Many trees were torn from their roots, but not all of them. The water in the lagoon rose. Slower than the waves, the steam and wind that had emerged from the void where Paradise 5 had once been now attacked the windows of Science Hall. The building was engulfed in a torrential onslaught of water. It was a slashing rain — and these raindrops were the size of baseballs and larger. One drop smashing into the glass would have sounded like an automobile backfiring, but the combined effect of thousands was more akin to a dozen colossal jackhammers, all running at full power — or perhaps a dozen machine guns. Those gathered in the restaurant could no longer see the events outside. Water flowed down the angled glass, giving the appearance of a waterfall.
The rain stopped as quickly as it had begun and the water drained off the glass. Petur looked out over the scene. The lagoon, usually a crystal-clear and mild pond of shining blue-green water, was now swirling with foam and brown with sediment. The warehouse on the pier had lost its roof when it buckled under the onslaught of the enormous raindrops. Marcos’s yacht was still afloat, but had been damaged badly — some of the superstructure demolished and the radar and communications antennae swept away. Men were beginning to gather back on the decks. The thick forest cover of Paradise 4 had protected the Mexican sailors and soldiers well. And out past it all, Paradise 5 was gone, as if it had never been.
At the top of the mountain, the observatory still lay open. The tower stood high, and as the steam and fog blew away from the island, the myriad mirrors began once again to collect the light of the sun.
Petur took control again. “Look, Mr. Marcos. Look at the telescope.”
Juan Marcos stood in silence. He was stupefied, almost disbelieving. He did not even hear Petur.
“Governor Marcos. Governor? Are you with us?” Petur moved to his side. Soon, Marcos recovered. Petur indicated the mountain peak. “Look there, sir.”
The telescope was moving, slowly, until it aimed directly down at Marcos’s yacht.
“We can do it again, Mr. Marcos. The tiniest pulse from that device is enough to remove your luxurious yacht from existence. Do you understand?”
Marcos said nothing. In fact, no one in the entire room spoke a word. Everyone was looking out to sea, still trying to absorb the incredible event they had just witnessed. Included among those awed were the other members of the Council. Not even Sophia, the physicist, had any notion how this had been accomplished.
53. Prior Claim
THE MEXICANS HAD relaxed their watch on the islanders, who came together in a small group, clustered in the corner. Petur was standing next to Elisa, and their hands had joined in a gentle clasp. Joseph was the first to talk.
“Petur, how did you do this thing? I’ve never seen anything like it!” He shook his head slowly in disbelief.
“Joseph, I’ll have to tell you later.”
Otto added, “You destroyed an island with a laser beam. I don’t even understand how it’s possible.”
Petur smiled slightly and replied softly. “As far as I know, it’s not possible.”
Joseph asked hopefully, “Is the island still there? Is this some kind of holograph?”
“No, Joseph. It’s simply not there anymore.”
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br /> “What do you mean, Petur? What have you done here?”
“Just a little trick, that’s all. We’ll explain it later. Unfortunately, we aren’t out of the woods yet.”
Juan Marcos had taken to pacing around the room again. The soldiers continued to keep an eye on their charges, all of whom were now clustered together in the corner. Enrico Marcos was looking out the window toward where Paradise 5 had once been. He shook his head in disbelief.
Sophia spoke next. “What do you think he’ll do next?”
“He’s desperate,” Elisa replied. “He might not choose logically.”
“I agree. He could do anything.” Petur scratched his chin. “But his yacht is still afloat, so he can leave. He’s not a trapped animal, ready to act recklessly because he has no way out. My hope is that he will simply leave with his tail between his legs.”
Only four soldiers remained downstairs, by Petur’s count. The rest had joined the others in the restaurant. There had been a natural migration up the elevator to get a view of the place where the ship had once floated, and where a whole island had once been. The four men who stayed below, Petur figured, were guarding the place.
It was twenty minutes after Paradise 5 had disappeared that Petur next spoke. “Juan Marcos, I believe it is time for you to leave.”
Marcos looked at him sternly. “It is our island. You will be the ones to leave.”
“Just how sure are you that it is really your island?” Onbacher said.
Petur looked at Onbacher with a furrowed brow. Marcos said nothing.
“I asked you, how sure are you that this is your island?”
“This island chain belongs to Mexico. That has not been contested.”
“Well, I contest it now. From my understanding, Mexico laid claim to this previously undiscovered chain of islands when a Mexican named Frederico something-or-other sailed out here after the islands were first seen by satellite imagery forty years ago. Is this correct?”
“Yes. That is correct,” Marcos replied.