MoonRush (4 page)

“There you have it, Steven. Another man ‘Striking It Rich.’ ” She kept her smile plastered rigid
ly in place
until the red light blinked off. The disk floated down to her outstretched hand.

Her gaze wandered back to the bridge as she fanned her face.

It might be her getting lucky after all.

CHAPTER 2

Undisclosed location in the Rocky Mountains

March 18, 2049

1130 hours, MST

Dr. Weigner watched the news van disappear around the corner in a cloud of dust. Irritating reporter.
He was so
ready to spout inaccurate snippets as long as it would help his ratings. The scientist turned to look at the older couple on the sagging porch. They were watching their grandchildren play in the yard, chasing the little chicks around and laughing at their high-pitched peeps and squeaks.

Time to earn his keep.

He approached the farmer and his wife, clearing his throat politely to gain their attention. “I hate to be a bother, but could I interest you in parting with such an exquisite gem?”

The weather-beaten face grew shrewd. This was no stranger to the art of negotiation. “Well, it’s no bother.” He yawned. “What would you be offering?”

“I’m just a researcher, I’m afraid. Nothing over seven million.”

The farmer’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “I’m sorry, doc, but I’ve got buyers offering double that amount.”

“Ah. Sorry to delay you, then.” Weigner sighed profoundly, and then pivoted slowly to leave, his steps heavy.

“What would you want with it, anyway?”

The doctor tinged his voice with sadness, and spoke without turning. “Research. Cancer research.” Weigner let that land, and then glanced with yearning at the yard, observing the children at play. “Children’s cancer.” He nodded
toward
the couple. “Thank you so much for your time.”

Even from yards away, Weigner could feel the glare of the farmer’s wife directed at her negotiator
-
husband. The scientist mentally counted down.

Three, two, one…

The farmer harrumphed. “I guess seven million
is
a lot of money.” He lifted his voice to call out, “Doc. Wait!”

Weigner allowed himself a small, secret smile before returning to the porch to seal the bargain. Children’s cancer as
the bait always did the trick.

* * *

Rob watched his uncle charge back into the control room, excitement radiating
from
him like cologne. Uncle Jare wore cool
as if
it was some kind of tailored suit made only for him. Rob jutted his chin at the layered holographic feed that showed row after row of chests
in the shipwreck’s hold, sticking
out into the main area of the bridge. Nothing like that extra depth of Surround-D to really give someone a feel for just how much was there. He lifted his hand for the obligatory high-five.

“Who’s the man?” Rob asked.

“You are,” his uncle chuckled, smacking the waiting palm. “But the question is, are those chests full, or not?”

Rob nodded at the spectrograph that showed spikes flying off the graph. “Gold’s like crack to my sensors.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jarod crooned. “I’m liking fate.”

Buton chimed in
.
“The term ‘fate’ implies a predestined course of events that could either be amicable or hostile. What I believe
you are
referring to is karma, which
does
have the capacity to reward or punish based on your actions.”

“Whatever,” Jarod said as he lifted his hand, obviously looking for another high-five from his nephew. “Fate’s my new best friend!”

Rob connected once more with his uncle’s palm, the slap reverberating through the bridge. “Those chests have been
waiting
for us!”

This was
their
time.

Buton countered their optimism. “Even if that is your belief, I will need at least three hours to calibrate the—”

“We’re going in!” Jarod overrode him.

“But—”

“What did you say?” Jarod pressed Buton. “One more quake over a 3.0
,
and we’ll lose the ship to the ravine. Right…?” Jarod’s gaze challenged Buton to disagree. “Right?”

The computer expert paused,
and
then reluctantly nodded. It was clear that he wasn’t happy about the situation at all. But when was he
ever
? The guy was nice enough, but he took caution to a whole new level of buzz kill.

“I’ll lower the shark booms,” Cleo stated. Jarod went to argue, but Momma Bear Cleo overrode him. “Just in case.”

“Sharks?” Brandi’s voice turned every head in her direction. She stopped in the doorway to the bridge and blinked at the sudden attention.

“Oh, yeah.” Rob spoke, trying to adopt Jarod’s swagger. “We’re sitting on top of hammerhead central. Their nursery is just south of here.”

“Sharks have nurseries?” Brandi squeaked, taking a step away from the hovering image of the shark that appeared ready to swallow her up.

“Sort of,” Rob answered. “It’s where they give birth. And let’s just say that they
vigorously
protect their young. It’s why nobody’s really searched out here but us.”

“But these booms create a ‘safe zone’?” Brandi asked, the inexperienced
,
hopeful
note of a landlubber in her voice.

“Are you
kidding
?” Rob snorted. “In these waters, there ain’t no such thing as
safe
.” She really
was
a newbie at this. “And if they smell blood, then it’s all teeth…”

As much as he had wanted to strut his stuff in front of Brandi, Rob shuddered, tasting blood in the back of his throat. A flash of a dorsal fin. The sharp pain of a dozen razor-sharp teeth. Then a hand came to rest on his shoulder. Rob looked up to find Cleo with her “I’m here for you during this difficult time” face.

Cleo spoke to Brandi, her hand squeezing Rob’s shoulder gently. “Rob and his father were—”

Rob ducked out from under her touch. He wasn’t a kid anymore.

“It’s all good.” He stared a challenge to everyone in the ro
om. “We can handle it.”

* * *

Dr. Weigner coded in his security clearance,
and
the door whoosh
ed
open. Sterile, cold air swirled around him as he stalked into his laboratory, the prize gripped tightly in his fist. His two technicians started, guilty looks on their faces, as the one closest to the television waved his hand to switch off the broadcast.

Weigner would deal with their laziness later. Right now, there was business to attend to. Weigner released the containment device, which hovered over to the space between the two junior scientists. The top face of the box slid back to reveal the prize. Even under the florescent lights, the jewel glinted fiercely, rainbows scattering across the lab. The techs’ eyes glowed.

The doctor placed the gem on the nearest table and held out an electron-digital jeweler’s loupe for the techs to inspect the stone.

“I paid seven million for it.”

The tech bobbed his head up from his perusal. Surprise colored his response. “With this purity? They could have gotten triple what you paid.”

“Yes, they could have. But some must suffer in the name of science.” Weigner allowed himself a satisfied chuckle before getting back to the business at hand. “Is the device ready?”

The other technician stepped forward. “Yes, sir!”

Dr. Weigner retrieved the tiny sliver from the awed tech, striding over to the complicated array of tubes and wires. He nestled the jewel in a mirror-shielded niche, moved back
,
and sighted along the longest tube to the lead sheet ten yards off.

“Activate it, but only at level one.”

A hum of power coursed through the machine as a kaleidoscopic
light
beam
leapt from the tube. The ray cut cleanly through the lead sheet, the wall
,
and several walls beyond that before splitting a tree out in the parking lot.

The tech turned off the power as silence reigned for several long moments.

“Tell the Pentagon the initial test shows…positive results.” Dr. Weigner peered through the bored holes out into the sunshine. “Definitely positive.”

The two techs burst into a flurry of activity, as Weigner brushed his fingertips along the length of the laser. The cool metal sighed against his skin.

This was so much more satisfy
ing than curing cancer any day.

* * *

Cleo felt the snug strength of the wet suit against her skin. Wearing her diving gear always gave her such a sense of security. But that was an illusion she could not afford.

She strode over to Jarod, who was finishing up his predive routine, pacing back and forth, railing at everyone else that they weren’t going fast enough. Oh, and checking his gear, of course. That part had taken him all of three seconds.

“Here’s the antivenin.”

Cleo deposited the syringes filled with the serum into Jarod’s hand. Sea snakes were a distinct possibility down there. The creatures would normally keep to themselves, but with the aftershocks and Jarod’s urgency, the likelihood of one feeling threatened was too high for Cleo’s taste. When threatened, they would attack, and having the antivenin on one’s hip could make the difference between life and death.

Jarod casually tossed the needles on the counter. Cleo sighed and scooped them back up. This was also part of his routine. She held them before Jarod’s eyes.

“Which goes on your belt. Not in your pack, or hooked to the line, but on your
belt
, Jarod.” She stared him down.

“Fine.”

That was the answer she was looking for. Cleo pulled down the shark prods from their customary hooks and handed Jarod the largest one. He placed it on the counter. Seriously, it was like herding cats.

“Jarod.”

“All right. All right.” Jarod widened his eyes and jutted out his jaw at her
—
an expression reminiscent of Rob. He picked up the prod, hefted it, and faced the rest of the team. “C’m
on, guys! Let’s hit the water.”