Chapter 53

Nathan didn't push seaQuest to full speed. They were already pretty far away from the Andaman Sea, and the continent of South America stood in the way of them gaining much more ground. He assumed geographical distance was probably irrelevant anyhow. A spaceship that traveled countless light-years across the galaxy was hardly going to be deterred by a couple thousand kilometers.

Depth had to be their best bet. If the Hyberion people had submersible technology, they wouldn't need seaQuest to begin with. He had to hope that whatever they used to levitate seaQuest out of the water had some kind of range, hopefully one that decreased exponentially when it had to operate through water instead of air or vacuum.

He'd also spent some time wondering why the Hyberions went to all the trouble of baiting their hook with Scott. Was it to gain cooperation from the crew once they were kidnapped or was it because they had no good way to find seaQuest without her walking right into their trap? SeaQuest couldn't find airplanes without some kind of help on the surface. And airplanes couldn't usually find submarines as long as they were deep enough to be invisible to the naked eye and infrared scans. Did he dare dream that the alien mothership might not be able to find them as long as they didn't go near the rendezvous coordinates?

He did hope, but he wasn't counting on it. That was why he'd sent the civilians away and practiced evacuations. If not showing up to the trap and diving deep didn't deter the aliens, then he was taking no chances with human lives. He had a few other tricks planned, but they were secondary or tertiary to getting everyone out. The UEO could always build another seaQuest. People were irreplaceable.

Although they had approached facing south, Nathan ordered a turnaround before they settled into Richards Deep. If they had to run, there was more trench to the north than to the south. He knew running was probably futile, but he couldn't help making choices that gave him the best tactical advantage anyway. According to sonar, the Reagan positioned herself five kilometers west, just outside of the trench and roughly perpendicular, so her flight runways ran east-to-west. They would probably rotate in the late afternoon. Flyboys didn't tend to like staring into the sun during takeoff and landings. But at least they were Navy flyboys and not Air Force. Would Nathan ever shake that lingering distrust?

The aerial assault was not his area of expertise and he was quite satisfied to leave those tactics to someone else. He had his hands full just worrying about seaQuest. If the Air Force had ever cared about mending its reputation with him (and he didn't think they did) then this was the perfect opportunity. Nathan didn't care which pilots or whose planes went after the thieving spaceship, as long as the aliens were thwarted. In his mind, this was a whole lot bigger than branches of service or countries and confederations. If humans couldn't set aside their petty differences and work together, then all of Earth was at risk.

At their leisurely pace, it had taken three hours to get into their hiding place. Commander Ford had reported readiness for "Trench warfare, twenty-first century style." Nathan gave him a sly wink for the clever turn of words.

They did share something in common with the trench fighters from World War I. Once entrenched, life got very dull. Under deep submergence protocol, many of seaQuest's passages were flooded. Right now, the bridge crew couldn't return to their quarters or visit the mess. Fortunately, they'd planned ahead and had even more than the normal stockpile of MRE rations. There were no showers on the bridge, but they did have an emergency head.

Since eleven out of the fourteen who were presently working had been so recently imprisoned under much worse conditions, only Piccolo, Kilgore, and Matthews had anything to complain about. And although Piccolo probably didn't realize Nathan was paying any attention, the petty officer was the one muttering under his breath to the other two to can it.

Lucas had exhausted every avenue he could think of to look for Hyberion language samples and found none. Even when Tobias and the Stormer were alone with each other, all they did was try to kill each other and growl a lot. O'Neill double-checked everything and concurred with the young hacker.

But it did appear that listening to the lectures in sped-up English was providing some clues into Hyberion knowledge and possibly even their psychology, so Nathan didn't try to dissuade his brain trust from devouring the input. At least they were keeping busy. The rest of the crew made jokes about them being closet "Chipmunks" fans and Miguel led a chorus of the Chipmunk Christmas Song which the whole crew joined. Nathan hadn't heard singing on the bridge since Crocker left and he'd missed it. Of course, he really didn't want Chipmunk songs to become the norm. After that, Tim handed Lucas a headset and they both plugged in. Applause ensued.

Nathan was glad Wendy had joined them. Her presence had a calming effect. He couldn't decide whether it was from her being a civilian, a doctor, a female, or a telepath. Probably some combination of the four. Boring shifts were nothing new to submariners, but having practically nothing to do when they were in so much danger was. Wendy whispered the suggestion that they start taking turns eating and resting.

They settled into a four-hour rotation, half of them manning the stations while the other half slept and ate. Nathan, Tim, Lucas, Tony, Wendy, Mitchell, and Henderson called their group "The Sharks" because Lucas objected to Commander Ford's idea of boring military designations like Team Tango and Team Foxtrot. Not wishing to be outdone, Brody, in a brilliant tactical maneuver, suggested their group be named Team Zulu. In one fell swoop, he appealed to Ford's ethnic pride and his military sensibilities, while keeping it under the parameters of the original idea. Jim had his moments.

Nathan didn't mind being first to take the rest shift because he had a feeling it would be a long wait. Edward had said at least twelve hours, but he was likely counting until the time of abduction, not the time of the holographic distress call. Nathan was pretty sure he wouldn't have reported the call in the original history. He would have trusted Scott and investigated first, without telling his superiors. And that stupidity had been his downfall. This time, he was keeping everyone on the same page.

They didn't have the communications buoy afloat because its presence might give away their location and it could be used as a snare. They didn't have an easy way to detach the cable. But the Reagan had an underwater amplifier that she extended downward. They could piggyback off the aircraft carrier to anywhere in the world. They maintained thirty minute check-in intervals with the Reagan and Noyce had called in person three times. And to think I was concerned I would have to cajole him back into active duty.

Jonathan woke him ten minutes before the shift change, as he'd requested.

"Anything?" he asked.

The commander shook his head. "Not yet." He didn't look disappointed, exactly, but he wasn't relieved either. "There's a report on your computer screen, but it's pretty sparse."

"Okay, get some rest. I've got the bridge."

"Relinquishing command to you, aye, sir."

Nathan stood and stepped into his uniform coverall. At least the bridge was warm enough that they had all been able to strip into underwear to sleep. Nathan took great pride in the fact that both Wendy and Lonnie felt comfortable enough that they had stripped down to underwear too. He hadn't made so much as a suggestion.

"All right, Sharks, time to get up." He made his voice pleasant but loud. The military people sprang up smartly. Lucas and Wendy were only slightly slower. No one complained. "Leave the bedrolls for Team Zulu. Grab some chow if you want and get to your stations."

Tim and Tony chorused, "Aye, sir" while the others nodded through their yawns.

Nathan made a cup of instant coffee, but they didn't have a microwave. It was room temperature. When Lucas saw him start to drink, his eyes widened in shock. "Do you actually like cold coffee, Captain?"

Nathan shrugged. "Not particularly, but it gets the job done."

Lucas extended his hand. "Here, let me take care of it."

He hesitated a second, but Lucas looked so innocent, he finally decided to trust him and handed over his cup.

Lucas took the cup and set it down on the floor near the electronic access panel for the communications station. Tim quirked a brow and watched him warily, but didn't try to stop him. Lucas opened the panel and pulled a handful of wires out. He grabbed a yellow and red one. Tim figured out what he was doing and pressed a button on his console. A yellow indicator light went dark. Lucas used a pocket knife to strip the wire and then nodded. Tim pressed the button again, lighting the yellow light. Lucas held the plastic-coated part and lowered the bare end of the wire into the cold coffee. In about thirty seconds, the cup was steaming.

Lucas stood. With a grin, he offered the coffee back to the captain.

"Thanks, but what of my ship's systems did you just wipe out to give me hot coffee?"

"Vid-link in the crew lounge," Tim answered. "No one can get to it now anyway. And it only takes five minutes to fix when this is all over."

"Good thinking. Leave it out." Everyone could have hot water now. Lucas pressed the button again. Presumably, the wire was safe while the indicator light was dark.

As the Sharks filtered into their stations, Team Zulu members briefed them and backed off, retreating toward the food stash. Nathan skimmed over Ford's report, verifying what the commander had already said, that it was very sparse. When he closed the file, his menu came up, reminding him he had 379 unopened emails from various UEO and Navy command addresses.

He raised his head from the computer screen, looking around for anything else he could do to put off paper-pushing. But there was nothing else. With a sigh of resignation, he opened the email list. They'd been out of the loop for a week, so there were very likely some interesting mails peppered in with the rest of the dreck. He scanned over the addresses and subjects, hoping to find a good apple or two. He opened the one from Noyce, which was just a threat to kick his butt if his radio silence wasn't involuntary. He also threatened to come looking for him personally if he didn't report soon. Guess he carried out that threat, Nathan reflected with a smile.

Then he saw another interesting mail. This was one he'd been waiting for. He clicked it open and grinned. "Mr. Ortiz, would you make sure the printer is on?" he asked. Miguel was standing right next to it, eating.

He nodded and tried to say "Sure," but it came out muffled over the food still in his mouth. He checked the machine and gave the captain a thumbs-up.

Nathan sent the document to the printer and then looked around the bridge. None of the Zulu guys had started to lie down yet, so this was a good time to speak to everyone. "May I have everyone's attention? This won't take long. I just got verification from the Navy for a request I put in quite a while back." He waited while Miguel delivered the printout to him. "Mr. O'Neill has just been promoted to full lieutenant."

The bridge erupted in applause and cheers. Nathan handed O'Neill the official letter. "Sorry we can't get you a change of rank insignia right now."

"That's okay, sir."

"Wait! I got it," Piccolo cried. He hurried to the communications station, pulled out a black marker from his pants pocket, and before Tim could stop him, he scribbled over the J.G. on his embroidered nameplate. "Ha, ha! Your turn, buddy!"

Nathan chuckled. "I guess I stand corrected."

Tim gave Tony an annoyed but tolerating smirk, looked down at his uniform and shook his head, and then folded the letter and shoved it in his pocket. Nathan shook his hand first and then cleared away to give everyone else a chance to congratulate him.

In the midst of his happy exchanges, O'Neill's smile suddenly dropped and he pressed his finger to the headset he'd never removed. "I've got Admiral Noyce for you, Captain." Immediately, every face sobered and the sound stopped.

"Put him on the center screen."

"Aye." O'Neill sat at his station and pressed a button.

Bill's face matched theirs in seriousness. "The Gerald Ford saw it, Nathan. Said she swooped in out of nowhere and hovered over the water at no more than 500 meters. They say she's as big as the Pentagon. We tried to make contact, but she just ignored us. She had some kind of strobe-light scanner and scanned about ten square kilometers of sea in less than a minute. We didn't even get our fighters in the air before she took off. Backwash caused an enormous wave which might have overturned a smaller ship, but the carrier weathered it without casualties. She went straight up, Nathan. Not even our satellites could track her."

"Well, do you think she gave up? Their fish didn't take the bait, so just go home?"

"No one is assuming that. When we parked the Ford out there, people got curious. There were several small, private boats in the area, not as close as our people were, but that thing was so big, it could have been seen for probably twenty miles. Footage has already hit the Internex."

"Great, so we're going to have a panic."

"Maybe. But we can always make the argument that they were peaceful explorers who just came down to get a look around. They scanned the ocean and left. No more scary than our old Mars Rovers."

"We hope they left."

Commander Ford cleared his throat. "And we hope they didn't go back to get reinforcements."

Noyce nodded and took a deep breath. "Every confederation on the planet is going on alert. President Chi requested we leave Gerald Ford there and our president acceded. For now."

Nathan could see where this was leading and he didn't like it. "So how long before the Reagan gets called away?"

"McGath convinced the president that guarding seaQuest is in the best interest of the United States, but all bets are off if a spaceship gets anywhere near American airspace."

"Understood, Admiral. Let's just hope our internal politics are too convoluted for alien minds to comprehend."

"Let's hope you're right. How are you feeling about your location? You still want to stick to the plan?"

Nathan looked around at his crew. Everyone nodded. "We're quite comfortable here. We're staying if you're staying."

"We're staying too."

"Thanks for the update, Admiral. SeaQuest out."

The second the vid-link went dark, Lucas shot into his station, muttering loudly. "I take a four-hour nap and the whole world falls apart."

Nathan bit his lips to stifle a smile. "Don't sweat it, kiddo. You'd have been watching Professor Chipmunk if you'd been awake."

"Yeah, yeah," he said absently as his fingers flew over the keyboard. He stopped clicking and stared at his screen, but there was no sound since they'd plugged in headphones.

"Well?" Nathan asked.

"Oh." Lucas seemed surprised. "Do you want to see it all, or should I sift through and find the best stuff?"

"I think we're all curious and we appear to have nothing better to do. Go ahead and put it on the main viewer."

One at a time, Lucas pulled up video with varying angles on the mothership. Much of the footage was shaky and out of focus, but even the worst stuff showed a lot more than the average UFO hoax. It was all taken in broad daylight. After about four amateur vids, he found footage from a news channel. Everything was clear, and the camera operator had been wise enough to get the aircraft carrier into the shot for scale. Everyone gasped and Lucas froze the image.

"Anyone know how long the Gerald Ford is?"

Nathan knew, but he wasn't sure it was wise to calculate the size of that thing. Numbers would only make it more intimidating. It was easily double the length of the carrier and seaQuest was smaller than the Ford.

Wendy spoke softly, directing her gaze to Lucas. "Is it going to make it any easier to fight it if you know?"

Lucas shrugged. He looked at Wendy first, and then the captain. Nathan shook his head, but he didn't glare or frown. He wasn't going to outright forbid him from calculating. The teen came to a quick decision. "I guess not." He resumed the video. White text in some kind of Asian characters scrolled beneath.

"Mr. O'Neill, can you read any of that?" Nathan asked.

He shook his head. "It's Vietnamese, but I'm not very good at reading anything that doesn't have a phonetic alphabet."

"Is there audio?" the captain asked Lucas.

Lucas pulled his headphones from the console and flipped a switch. A wind-marred audio track played some gibberish.

"It's enormous," O'Neill said with more monotone than the voice he was translating. He continued in a broken fashion, listening and translating phrases at a time. "Where did it come from? It's hovering over the American ship, but it doesn't appear unfriendly. Is it Russian or Ukrainian? It has no markings. What is it doing? There's a light underneath it now. Is it going to land? Can it float? Are the Americans communicating with it? Wait! There it goes. It is very fast. I do not think it came from Russia or Ukraine. I do not think it came from our world."

The footage ended and news commentators appeared. "We don't need to see anymore, Lucas," Nathan said. He wasn't sure seeing any of it had been wise. He waited a few seconds in silence. "Well, does anyone think we need to change our plans now?"

Commander Ford pressed his lips together and shook his head deliberately. "No, sir. Look at what we learned!"

We learned that it's a big damned ship and we're puny in comparison. Nathan sure hoped Jonathan wasn't going to say anything close to what he was thinking.

"It didn't hide way up orbit or the outer stratosphere. We can hit it with our missiles easily. The Reagan will be close enough to hit it too."

"We can't use anything nuclear though," O'Neill put in. "We're way too close to populated land masses. Radiation would kill millions."

"Absolutely correct, Mr. O'Neill. No nukes. The big question is how do we hit it so that it doesn't crash on top of us?"

"If we hit it from down here, it can't touch us," Brody said. "The water will slow its descent, and it's too wide for the trench. It will lie across the top and we can slip right under it."

"That's assuming we fire before it grabs us," Nathan pointed out.

"They came here uninvited and they plan to steal seaQuest!" Lucas squealed.

"I know that and you know that, but we have no proof. If this becomes some sort of intergalactic incident, I do not want to be cast as the trigger-happy human who doomed Earth to war with an advanced species while they claim they just wanted to look around."

"Look around, my butt," Piccolo said. "If they came to explore, why did they ignore that aircraft carrier back in the Andaman?"

"Good point," the captain said. "Why did they ignore the Ford?"

"Because she wasn't a threat," Commander Ford said.

"How would they know that?"

"They've been here before." It was Henderson's voice. She of all people would never forget the Stormer.

"That Stormer didn't make it back to report anything, but they have Commander Keller. Scott knows very well what our aircraft carriers are capable of. If they're deep enough in his head to dig up a forty-year-old favor I owe him from our Academy days, then they have to know about our defenses."

"I don't think Scott is with them, Nathan," Wendy said.

He whirled on her. "Explain."

"I'm not saying they didn't capture him, but why send us a recording? He's either dead already, or being held as insurance, back on their planet."

And not giving them seaQuest will condemn him to death.

Her voice turned soft and compassionate. "I think Scott would sooner die than betray his people. It's not your fault."

He stared her down, trying to decide whether she'd read his mind or just guessed his thoughts. It was getting harder and harder to tell now that she knew him so well. He decided it didn't matter. She was right. He had to stop thinking about Scott and concentrate on the bigger picture.

"Captain, I've got UEO Command calling," O'Neill reported. "The mothership has been sighted over New Cape Quest, headed this way."

"Damn," Nathan muttered. He didn't have to say a word to Team Zulu. Everyone dropped their food and scrambled to their stations.

"E.T.A. is one minute," O'Neill said, obviously parroting what someone else told him.

"Florida to South America in a minute?" Brody remarked incredulously.

"Mr. O'Neill, sound battlestations."

"Aye," he said to the captain. He flipped switches to sound the alert. "Battlestations. All hands to battlestations," he said as calmly as Nathan had ever heard him.

"Mr. Brody, run a weapons check."

"Aye, sir." He pressed buttons and checked over his computer screen. "All systems normal. All weapons ready at your command."

Nathan nodded. "There's still a chance they're coming here because of the Reagan. If we sent a carrier to the trap site, we'd probably send one to guard their target. We're not moving until we've got some indication she's actually found us. Helm, be ready to go to full speed, but don't move without my order."

"Aye, sir," Henderson said.

"Do we have a designation for that alien ship?" Ford asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

Nathan understood. Every time they called it a 'mothership' or talked about 'her' with that awe in their voices, they gave it power. He wanted to weaken it in their minds. "Not yet. Any suggestions?"

"Wile E. Coyote," Piccolo blurted out.

Several people laughed. Laughing was good. Making fun of the enemy was always preferable to fearing him.

"I like it," Ford announced.

"And we're the Roadrunner he never catches," Lucas said, catching on.

"Let's just hope their Acme gadgets aren't any better," Brody said warily.

"Don't you get it?" Lucas countered. "It's never the quality of the gadgets. It's the way the Coyote bumbles them up, or the Roadrunner outwits him. It's perfect."

Nathan grinned. "Mr. O'Neill, inform the Reagan that we have designated our enemy contact 'Wile E. Coyote'."

"Aye, sir." Tim wasn't facing him, but he would bet he was smiling from the tone of his voice.

The bridge was tense for a few long seconds. The Reagan patched them into their video feed so they could see what it looked like from the surface. They all saw when the Wile E. appeared from nowhere into a hover about a hundred meters above the surface. Nathan didn't have to ask to know it was directly above their coordinates.

"They knew right where to find you, Nathan," Bill said with a sad yet grim look on his face. Tim split the center screen so they could get the admiral's vid-link and the Reagan's outside camera showing at the same time.

"Just because they found us doesn't mean they can grab us," Nathan countered. "This 'Roadrunner' isn't giving up."

"We're launching fighters now," Noyce reported.

Nathan was sorely tempted to remind him not to provoke a war, but Bill outranked him and the commander of the Reagan was probably taking orders from the President himself anyway. The captain held his tongue and his breath.

A beam of green light appeared below the Wile E. and disappeared into the water.

"Mr. Ortiz, do you have a—"

"WSKRS view, right here," Miguel finished for him. He sent it to the screen, taking over Noyce's side and shoving the admiral's face into a thumbnail in the corner. Now everyone could see that the green light extended all the way down through over 8,000 meters of water without losing any intensity. Although seaQuest had been ensconced in the absolute darkness of the trench, a thirty meter section of her hull was now brightly illuminated in green light.

"Captain, depth gauge shows we're rising," Henderson reported.

Nathan had expected to hear or feel the tractor beam taking hold somehow. But in retrospect he realized it was foolish to think that light would slam into the hull like a grappling magnet. "Rate of ascent?"

"Two hundred meters per minute."

"Did you get that, Admiral?" Nathan asked the screen. He wasn't sure O'Neill had piggybacked the WSKRS signal into their communication with the Reagan.

"We see it and we have sonar confirmation of your depth readings. SeaQuest is rising. The aliens have made the first hostile move. Captain Stafford, I believe you already have orders." Noyce turned away around as he spoke.

Stafford wasn't standing in range of the vid-link, but they could hear him issuing orders to fire up all the rocket launchers, deck guns, and lasers, as well as launching the fighter jets.

In seconds, they could see the Ronald Regan launch a full-scale attack on the hovering Wile E. Coyote. Explosions went off and everyone cheered.

"Let's see if we can wiggle out of their grasp while they're busy," Nathan said. "All engines ahead full."

"Helm is not responding," Henderson reported.

Nathan could feel his engines purring. "Are we moving at all?"

"Negative," Ford answered. "Engines are engaged, but we have zero lateral movement and no change in our ascent."

"Recall deep submergence protocol now."

"But that'll make us lighter," Brody argued.

"Correct, Lieutenant, but right now the only person on seaQuest who can get to the evacuation shuttles is Piccolo, and we'd flood the bridge if we open those doors." He thumbed over his shoulder at the only exit. "We've got to clear the corridors so we can get our people out."

Brody got the message long before Nathan finished talking and he looked properly embarrassed for needing to be told at all. He nodded until the captain finished and then answered with a humble, "Aye, sir." Everyone else had already started the procedures which drained the flooded passages and equalized the pressure throughout the boat.

"Any change in our rate of ascent?" he asked in Henderson's direction.

"No, sir. Rate is unchanged."

"Good. Lucas's simulation had us rising at almost triple that speed." He paid the teen a wink of thanks.

Lucas beamed an irrepressible smile in response.

"Mr. O'Neill, have we tried to explain how much we object to this?"

"All air frequencies are being jammed, Captain. We can get through on the underwater link to the Reagan, but the airwaves are completely jammed."

"We have no communication with our fighters," Noyce confirmed. "And so far, nothing we've hit the enemy ship with has done any damage."

Nathan exhaled with exasperation. "What?" He gestured at his screen. "We saw explosions!"

Bill shook his head. "We're hitting her, but nothing penetrates their armor. It's like we're firing BB guns at a Sherman tank."

The smoke from firing all the big guns was obscuring the camera whose feed they'd been watching, but the fact that Wile E. hadn't let go of seaQuest was troubling. Nathan wondered what else she might be doing instead. An aircraft carrier the size of Reagan had a crew of over 5000 and there was no telling what kind of offensive weapons Wile E. might have. "Has she returned fire?"

"Not yet. Maybe our assault isn't dangerous enough to warrant their attention." Bill Noyce sounded a little too optimistic, like he was talking himself out of fear.

"Bill, you be careful. I don't want to attend your funeral."

"My funeral! Whose boat is getting sucked up by aliens?"

"I'm not sticking around for the finale. Do you have an evac plan?"

Captain Stafford's head popped around the corner. "We're taking good care of the admiral, Captain, I assure you."

"Thank you, Captain. You have no idea how much I hate dress uniforms."

Stafford laughed. Nathan didn't envy his position, shooting at that massive behemoth and knowing his city full of people would be perched precariously on a sitting duck if the monster deemed him worthy of his attention. "Our fighters are starting their attack, but without radio contact, I won't know much more than you do."

"We appreciate the backup, Captain, but don't assume the seaQuest down for the count just yet. She still has a few tricks up her sleeve."

"I hope I'm here to see it."

"I'm counting on you getting pictures so I have ammunition the next time I have to lobby for funds."

"You got it. I'll leave you with the admiral. Looks like I may have to go out on deck and send orders to our fighters by semaphore."

"They teach pilots that?"

"Any pilot that steps foot on my ship: you'd better believe it—just for circum stances like this."

"Fair winds, Captain Stafford." Nathan figured that expression covered the ship and her aircraft.

"Good luck to you as well." Stafford donned a windbreaker and ran out of view of the vid-link. Admiral Noyce stepped back into center view.

"Shouldn't you be getting out of there?" Bill scolded.

Bill was right. Nathan couldn't sit around and hope the uncoordinated air attack worked, not after the depressing news about Wile E.'s armor. He turned from the vid-link screen to call out to his crew. "What's our depth now?"

"6,700 meters," Henderson's voice reported.

"Status on our corridors?"

"85% drained, Captain," Brody reported.

"Everyone get ready to report to evacuation stations. Unless that skinny old Coyote lets go of us soon, we'll be abandoning ship."

The crew nodded and Nathan had to admire how calm and professional they were all acting.

Commander Ford cleared his throat. His face was the very picture of solemn determination. "Which Acme package will we be leaving with the Coyote, Captain?"

"Attack Plan Delta, Commander."

"Wait, I thought you said we couldn't nuke them this close to land," Lucas said. His voice was a little stressed, but not as panicked as the situation probably warranted.

"No, we can't. But we can detonate every last one of them from inside once it leaves Earth's atmosphere. Let's see their armor deal with that."

"You're not staying aboard," Lucas said forcefully. It wasn't even a question.

"Relax, kiddo. Lieutenant Brody and Commander Ford already did most of the programming back in the Black Sea. All the commander and I have to do is get the timer started and arm them."

"Do you really have to self-destruct? They're just borrowing her for ten years. Why not just let them have her?"

"Borrowing without permission is called stealing. On this planet, stealing is universally condemned. Remember, they were going to steal us, too."

"But they aren't getting us. And without us, they might give her back even sooner."

Might. He understood Lucas's attachment to seaQuest. He didn't want to sacrifice her either, but this was a matter of principle. How could he explain? "Lucas, what happens if you give a bully your milk money? Does he leave you alone?"

The teen's brows wrinkled up in confusion.

O'Neill scoffed loudly and then caught himself. "Uh, sorry, sir."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant." Nathan should have tried to think of a computer metaphor for Lucas. But Tim could help explain what he meant.

"No," Tim said, "the bully comes back again and again and he tells all his bully friends what an easy target you are."

Lucas's eyes grew wide. "Oh, I get it."

"Mr. O'Neill, get busy on making a recording that warns them that seaQuest will self-destruct inside their ship if they don't bring her back."

"But if they bring it back after you arm the nukes, won't we kill a bunch of folks?" Piccolo asked.

"They can't stop it, but we can. It'll be on a twenty minute timer. If they put her back, I send an ultrasonic tone sequence and then the commander and I have fifteen minutes to go in and disarm it." He held up a remote device very similar to the ones they'd used to dissolve walls at Beauregard's prison.

"But what if radio is still jammed?" Brody asked.

"Sound waves travel better in water than in air. That's why we're having no trouble communicating with the Reagan right now. But I'm betting if they understand us enough to bring her back, they're not going to stick around to jam our radio."

"You realize I never got a Hyberion language sample, Captain," O'Neill reminded him.

"I know, Lieutenant. Professor LeConte and Commander Keller should have versed them in English, and if they didn't, well it's not our fault if they don't look for booby traps on their stolen property."

"Aye, sir," Tim said soberly. He donned a headset and started typing.

On the center screen, they watched rocket after rocket launch from fighter jet wings and explode on the surface of the giant saucer. The shock waves shook the cameras on the Reagan and the light from the blasts whited out the picture intermittently.

"Henderson, any change on our rate of ascent?"

"Negative, Captain. Not even a hiccup."

"Current depth?"

"4,900 meters and rising."

"Mr. Brody, status on the corridors?"

"Down to 95%. We'll splash a bit, but we won't need gills."

"Nathan, you've done your best," Bill said from the vid-link. "And so have we. It's time to get your people out of there."

He'd almost forgotten the admiral had been listening. "All right everyone, you heard Admiral Noyce. Mr. O'Neill, put me on shipwide."

A nod and a flip of the switch.

"Attention. This is the captain. All hands abandon ship. This is not a drill. All hands to evacuation stations." He nodded to Tim to shut off the microphone, then he addressed the bridge crew. "Lieutenant Brody is in charge of the bridge launch. Wait for O'Neill and take off the second he gets there. Commander Ford and I are taking the Stinger."

"Aye, sir. Good luck," Brody said with a snappy salute.

Nathan returned the salute and then extended his hand for a quick shake. "No luck needed. You and Ford already did all the hard part. It's just turning keys and remembering my password now."

Brody's eyes bulged for a second before he realized his captain was joking. He flashed a grin and then started herding everyone to the door.

Lucas threw his hands up in surrender. "I'm going, just like I promised."

"I never doubted your word," Nathan said quietly. He really wanted to embrace the kid, but he wouldn't embarrass him when he was trying so hard to be grown up and mature.

Lucas hesitated a split-second and then ran into an impulsive hug. He whispered, "Be careful."

Nathan whispered back, "Love you, kiddo," just as Lucas broke the hug and ran off through the open clam doors. The captain turned away from the retreating crew quickly, swallowing the lump in his throat. He straightened up and cleared his throat. "Well, have you got that recording ready yet, Mr. O'Neill?"

"Aye, sir. It's set for a continuous loop. Should I start it now?" His finger hovered over a red button.

Silence would be better for the voice verification when they armed their missiles. "No, I trust it's fine. Go ahead and get to the launch, Tim. They're waiting for you."

"Aye. Good luck, Captain, Commander." The communications officer was already out of his seat. He didn't waste any time on goodbyes but Nathan caught him genuflecting as he ran toward the mag-lev.

When they were alone, he turned to his executive officer. "Well, Jonathan? Lucas could be right. We could be starting an interstellar war here."

The commander drew his lips tight and shook his head. "No, sir. You were right. We have to show strength or we're putting the whole planet at risk. Let's do it."

They both removed the keys from around their necks and went to work. It was exactly as they'd rehearsed except this time they used their actual serial numbers and the real launch codes. This is the second seaQuest I've blown to kingdom come for this planet. They'd better build me another one, he thought ruefully. "Activate twenty-minute countdown now," Nathan said.

"Timer activated," the computer voice droned.

Nathan hit the red button to start the warning message. Tim's calm voice echoed over the whole boat: "Attention unknown spacecraft, this is seaQuest DSV of the United Earth Oceans Organization. Removal of this submarine from our planet is an act of war. Return seaQuest to Earth immediately or she will self-destruct." The message repeated from there.

Nathan took one last look at the instruments to make sure that arming the missiles or starting the message hadn't gotten their attention, but nothing had changed. Jonathan pulled his Atlantean sword out from behind a storage panel and waved it wide. "After you, sir."

The two of them hoofed it toward the mag-lev.