by JC Ryan
“Yes, but his memories are all in a computer now and can be put on a chip and planted back into a brain.”
“That is true, but the part you are missing is that the chip is also a medical program that rebuilds the parts of the structure of the host brain to match the original brain.”
“Well, then rip those out, shut off the medical part of the chip and just transfer the memories.”
“No. The chip doesn’t work that way.”
“Why not?”
Linkola paused for a moment. “Think of it like this; it would be like setting a computer on a desk and expecting it to work itself.”
“Huh?”
“If you just set a computer on a desk, it will not work. It must be connected to power, and, even though it contains all the necessary files, it requires someone to tell it what to do. Turning off the medical part of the chip, even if it were possible, which it isn’t, would make the chip useless… there would be no connections and no control.
“Besides, it would mean destroying Robert.”
“What? Now I’m really lost; he’s already dead.”
“Is he?” Linkola gestured toward Tawndo, “his body lives; his mind is stored and available. Is he really dead? If we could separate his memories from the chip, re-animation would no longer be possible and we would have destroyed him.”
Korda, who had wandered into the lab during the discourse quipped, “too bad we can’t wake him up and ask him what he wants to do.”
Siasha looked at Korda sharply. “What did you say?”
Korda eyed her with puzzlement, “that it is too bad we can’t wake him up and ask him.”
“We are trying to make a decision we have no right to make,” she said.
Tawndo and Linkola look at her, “what?” they asked, nearly in unison.
“Robert is the only one who should be making this decision, not us.”
“But…” began Linkola.
“No, listen. His body is still alive, and his memory is stored and available… this is his decision, not ours.”
“And just how do you suggest we contact him and ask him?”
“I… don’t… know,” she said, deep in thought. “Linkola, have you scanned the brain since we awakened Tawndo?”
“No, I haven’t. I didn’t see the need.”
“I’d like to see a scan now.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Something you said about the structure of the brain. It could mean something, but I don’t know what yet. I need to see the scan.”
“Tawndo?” Linkola looked over at him. “Are you willing to undergo a scan of the brain?”
“I don’t see why not,” he replied. “Let’s do it! We have to get a solution and now might not even be soon enough as far as I am concerned.”
Linkola assisted Tawndo onto the diagnostic table and prepared the glucose injection while the clear glass-like panels slid up from beneath the table to cover his body.
After injecting the glucose and activating the low frequency EMP waves, the three watched in silence as the scanner created the digitized display of Tawndo’s brain.
Siasha made several adjustments to the knobs and switches on the control panel and then used the computer to pull up the scan of the brain in the state it was before the re-animation.
“Look at that,” she said, pointing to a series of spider-web-like images on the screen.
“What?” Korda asked.
“Yes, I see,” Linkola replied looking between the two screens.
“What?” Korda asked again.
“Let’s look at the scans from the first two experiments.”
“I’ll get them,” Linkola offered.
“What are you two looking at?” Korda asked again, this time a bit more irritated.
Siasha replied, “The synapse structure in the brain.”
“It’s pretty,” he responded, “but what about it?”
“They are the brain’s internal communications network, in other words, how the brain communicates with itself… sort of like a spider web connecting different parts of the brain.”
Linkola returned with the requested scans. Siasha connected the data chip to the computer and brought up Linkola’s original report, which he produced after the failed merger experiment.
“They are in Appendix ‘A’,” he told her.
She pulled up the images and studied them carefully, then she sat down, clearly disturbed.
“What is it?” Linkola asked staring at the images anxiously. “What do you see?”
“Look at the synapses.”
“I am looking at them,” he said studying the scans from the first two experiments. He gasped, “they’re… they’re…” he looked at all four scans carefully, “they’re… oh no!”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“What is it? What do you see?” Korda asked.
“Let me out of this thing if you’re done with me,” Tawndo said. “I want to see what you’re looking at.”
Siasha nodded for Korda to release him and waited for him to join them.
“Okay, so what am I looking at and what does it mean?” Tawndo demanded.
“Look at the scan Linkola did of your brain before the re-animation.” Tawndo looked as Siasha continued. “There is one distinct synaptic pattern in the brain. Now look at the one we just did… see the new pattern? That’s you…
“Notice how the original pattern is fading? That’s called Apoptosis…. programmed cell death. It’s what happens in the brain when certain established pathways are no longer used. The pathways gradually die out.
“As you can see, in the second scan the original pattern has far fewer pathways than it did in the first scan.”
Tawndo frowned. “Okay, I’m with you, but what does it mean?”
“Now look at the scans from both of the experiments and tell me what you see.”
Studying them closely for several minutes, Tawndo’s frown deepened. “It looks to me like there are three distinct patterns, and they are all fairly clear.”
“Correct.”
“So, what does that mean?”
“It means that the body was very recently killed when the experiment took place. The synapses hadn’t had a chance to start dying off. It also means that Linkola’s experiment attempted to place two men into the body at the same time and merge them. Essentially, they were merging three people. Although the body of the host was dead, the mind hadn’t been removed and the synapse connections were still there.
“Now look down here,” she said indicating a lump near the right kidney. This is the adrenal gland, and here is the other,” she said pointing to the left kidney.
“It looks like they exploded.”
“That’s exactly what happened,” Linkola said. “But what would cause that?”
“These glands were forced to produce too much adrenaline all at once.” Siasha said.
“O … kay,” Tawndo drew the word out, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m sorry, I still don’t understand what all this means.”
“It means several things,” Siasha answered.
“For one,” Linkola said bitterly, “it means that the bodies in the two experiments had most likely been killed immediately before the experiment. And that meant that their brains were not given enough time to die off—stop functioning.”
“Well, isn’t that to be expected?” Tawndo puzzled. “The bodies are only good for a short period after death.”
“No. That’s not what I mean,” Linkola replied tightly. “Those bodies were killed solely for the purpose of using them in the experiment. The lack of degradation in the synaptic pattern indicates there were only minutes between death and the attempted merge. It was done too soon—way too soon.”
Tawndo looked at Siasha, horrified. She read the question in his face.
“It’s true,” she confirmed, “and the fact that all three patterns are so clear indicates that the implantation and activation of the two chips occu
rred at the same time.
“The destruction of the adrenal glands was caused by a massive buildup up of adrenaline because it couldn’t be released into the body quick enough, and yet the amount of adrenaline in the blood at the time of death is off the charts.”
Tawndo looked from Siasha to Linkola who continued the summary.
“The three men in the experiments were all frightened, and were fighting for their lives when they were killed. The body already had a build-up of adrenaline at death. The synapses of the two men that they tried to merge were sending signals to the adrenal gland to produce adrenaline in response to their fear.
“The two men they tried to merge were not prepared, they had no idea what was coming. They were simply forced together at a point when the body was in a state of absolute terror.
“The rapid development of so many new synapses over the existing, probably drove them insane, and the super doses of adrenaline gave them the physical strength to literally tear their bodies apart without feeling what they were doing to it.”
Tawndo had grown pale and sat down. “That is the most despicable thing I have ever heard.”
“I think we all need some rest,” Korda suggested, and everyone nodded in silence.
Chapter 76- Meet at the sail
Captain Locklin, resting in his quarters at the insistence of the Doc, reviewed the report before him. After the Trepang had been hovering at two-hundred feet for nearly a day to allow them to repair damage to internal circuits and systems, they were under way again. The damage to the retractable bow planes made controlling the sub a nightmare. One had been sheared off entirely, and the other one was damaged to the point it could not be retracted and was stuck in the ‘dive’ position. This was causing the nose of the sub to want to descend deeper into the ocean.
By partially filling the forward ballast tanks with air they were able to keep the nose up enough to prevent the sub from going any deeper, but their forward speed was dismal, and the ride was shaky, to say the least.
An odd note in the report by the sonar officer puzzled him; a brief sonar contact, not long enough to fully identify as a vessel, had shown up and disappeared on two different occasions.
The Russians may have spotted us from the noise of the impact with the ice when Brideaux tried to surface.
Great, just what we need when we’re hamstrung. We each know the other is down here, so if we all just play nice, maybe we’ll get through this in one piece.
At least they don’t know we have the prisoners.
He noted they had left the Makarov Basin behind and were starting their pass over the area between the Mendeleyev Plain and the Canada Basin. Because of the damage to the boat and the inability to rise to make external repairs, the trip to the Chukchi Sea that should have taken hours would now take days.
If Brideaux weren’t dead already, I’d be tempted to kill him myself. Shit, maybe I’ll still go to the storage room and pump a few more bullets in him—just for the satisfaction.
His vengeful thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a knock on his cabin door, “Captain?”
“Enter.”
The door opened, and the chief chef stuck his head in. “I’ve brought you some food, Captain. Are you hungry?”
Locklin smiled and motioned him in, “I sure am!”
The chef’s face beamed as he set the tray of food before his Captain. “Enjoy, sir!”
Captain Locklin grinned as he picked up the knife and fork and began to cut into the steak, “Thank you, Sam!”
Sam gave a salute and left the Captain to enjoy his first decent meal since that lunatic hijacked his boat.
***
The giant submarine limped slowly through the water, gradually ascending toward the surface. It had taken three days, but she was finally out from under the Arctic ice and over the continental shelf in the Chukchi Sea.
“Bring us to 50 feet,” ordered the Captain.
“Coming to 50 feet, aye sir.”
Several minutes passed before the helmsman announced, “we’re at 50 feet, sir.”
“All stop,” he commanded.
“All stop, aye sir.”
Locklin changed a dial setting on the communication panel to ‘Trunk’ and thumbed the mic switch in his hand. “Are Larson and Hunter in the trunk and ready to go?”
“Aye, sir,” came the response.
“Very well; proceed.”
In the special nine-man airlock chamber behind the sail of the sub, Lieutenant Gary Larson and Ensign Marc Hunter were running through the final checks on each other’s gear when they saw the thumbs up. Larson indicated they needed another moment and assisted Hunter in securing a pony bottle in the pocket of his buoyancy compensation vest. He would need it if the cold water caused his regulator to go into free-flow.
They both wore neoprene dry suits with a wicking layer against their skin and a thick thermal layer on top of that to stay comfortable in the cold water. They double-checked each other’s weight belts and tanks to be sure everything was secure. Finally, they donned the dry gloves that would keep their hands warm and gave the return ‘thumbs up’ sign indicating they were now ready. Then they helped secure the hatch before water began to pour into the small room.
Within minutes they were entirely submerged in cold water and opened the hatch to exit the sub. As instructed, Larson made his way to the bow on the starboard side; Hunter did the same on the port side.
Instead of seeing the smooth rounded nose of the sub, Larson was dismayed to see the entire top of the bow crinkled and flattened, pieces of it missing entirely, and part of the sonar sphere exposed. The entire bow compartment was filled with water.
Larson whistled inside his helmet. “You see that Hunter?”
“Yeah, I see it. It’s a good thing we weren’t traveling at full speed. Sure was smart of the Captain to cut power to the engines as we ascended or we’d all be tinned fish food now.”
“Yep. How’s the bow plane on your side?”
“Damn, the whole thing has been ripped off; it’s completely gone! What about your side?”
“It’s still attached, but as the Captain suspected, it’s been bent and is stuck at a down angle.”
“Geez, can it be fixed?”
Larson, swimming around the plane examining it closely replied, “I doubt it. We’ll probably have to remove it. Let’s keep moving.”
Moving down the sleek sides of the sub, both men examined the surface for signs of hull penetration. When they met at the propulsion duct behind the rudder, Hunter’s report was more encouraging than Larson’s.
“My side looks alright. I didn’t see any signs of damage other than the bow.”
“Wish I could say the same. The number one sonar array is history, and there’s a gouge starting at the middle of it and angling up the side clear to the reactor room. I didn’t see any signs of actual penetration, but I sure wouldn’t want to have to trust it at any great depth.”
Larson could see Hunter’s eyes widen at the news, “Holy shit,” he heard him whisper.
“Come on, let’s get this done. You take topside, and I’ll check the belly of the beast. Meet at the sail and help me check the masts.”
“You got it!”
Larson was pleased to find that the ‘belly of the beast’ as he called it was completely intact and the ‘chin’ sonar array was undamaged. Hunter reported the topside to be intact as well except for some slight denting to the surface door of the vertical launch tubes, “The row closest to the nose has been flattened slightly, and we may have trouble opening and closing them.”
The sail was also intact except for damage to the sonar array, but the masts were another story; every one of them was sheared off. Some were missing altogether while a few hung by their cabling.
“Alright, let’s get back inside and get going on repair plans,” Larson said.
“Yeah, and get warm,” Hunter agreed.
***
Locklin listened with concern as Lieuten
ant Larson gave the damage report. Water in the nose of the boat without bow planes would make the sub almost uncontrollable and difficult to surface - if it could even be done.
They were off course, behind schedule, in trouble, and too far below the surface for radio contact. The very low and extremely low frequency radios, VLF and ELF respectively, wouldn’t do them any good either, since both were receive-only communications and their masts had been sheared off.
Yet, he needed to let Admiral Johnson know that they were alive and in trouble. Looking at the clock, he made his decision. It was risking detection, but he had to try something.
“Sonar, this is the Captain.”
“Sonar, aye,” came the response.
“Give me a single ping.”
“One ping, aye.”
One ping went out at one minute before the scheduled ping. He waited while the time for the scheduled ping passed. At one minute after the time of scheduled ping, he contacted sonar again and had them send a second, single ping.
That’s the best I can do right now Admiral; I hope you get the message.
Chapter 77- And then there was one
Thomas Hayden was pacing around in the Oval Office. He was at wit’s end; his nerves were shot. The last few days, he had been on the receiving end of several of Murphy’s Laws, first was the one that states; if anything can go wrong, it will, to which someone later added; at the worst possible moment. The second was the one known as Murphy's Law of Thermodynamics which stated; things get worse under pressure.
Civil unrest was spreading like wildfire across the country, violence and crime levels were reaching new record levels every day. People were starving, the promised food distribution was not happening; despair and dissatisfaction were driving people into rebellion and crime. Law enforcement agencies were incapable of maintaining law and order and had become the target of the people’s wrath. Brideaux’s new world order had laid waste to all security and law enforcement agencies across the globe, including America. These agencies were understaffed and now also under threat of being overrun and killed by the very populace they were supposed to protect.