Desh shrugged. “You heard the same thing we all did,” he said. After Matt had all but delivered humanity’s epitaph to everyone on board, he had done his best to reassure his listeners that he was nearly certain he could perfect a self-destruct code in time to stop the threat. “Matt told me in private before he went to sleep that he thinks his alter ego will only need about ten minutes to crack the final piece of the code.” He paused. “Personally, I think our chances are better than fifty-fifty.”
“Good to know,” said Jake wryly. “Heads it’s doomsday, tails it isn’t.”
“So what’s happening at your end?” asked Desh.
“It’s been a real shitstorm as you can imagine,” said Jake.
“Ninety percent of the countries have confirmed Matt’s analysis on their own now,” said Dutton. “Those with ready access to free uranium or plutonium have verified that the damn bugs migrate toward the shit right away, just like Matt predicted.”
“So the world’s governments are convinced the threat is real?”
Dutton laughed. “Yeah. they’re convinced all right. And they’re shitting in their pants. And why not? So is everyone here.”
“Did they all agree to keep it under wraps?”
Jake nodded. “After Matt said in his address that he was confident he could disarm the things with an hour or two to spare, what would be the point of disclosing it? Not even the most open governments in the world would do that. If the world ends, it doesn’t matter. And if Matt succeeds, they’ll have thrown their citizens into mass panic for nothing.”
“Not time enough to really disclose the situation anyway,” added Dutton. “Those in the know are probably at home fucking their wives one last time.”
“What are you talking about?” protested Desh. “Aren’t they all making sure they disarm their nukes?”
“Too late,” said Jake. “If this had been discovered earlier, it could have been done. As it is, it’s Matt or it’s Armageddon.”
“If he does perfect his self destruct sequence?” said Desh. “Will an hour or two before time zero be enough?”
“Should be plenty,” replied Jake. “Matt said he’s certain that if he does find it, it’ll be relatively simple, and transmittable by a variety of means. Every radio station, cell phone tower, Wi-Fi provider, and communications satellite on earth will be standing by to transmit.”
Desh shook his head. “You’d better be making sure that someone on every last submarine and in every last nuclear silo will transmit the signal as well. Up close and personal.”
Jake nodded. “All governments, including no doubt, any terrorists organizations harboring nukes, have gotten this message.”
Dutton walked to a minifridge and pulled out a soda. “We still have a lot to accomplish, so why don’t we get to the reason I asked you here.”
Desh raised his eyebrows. “Which is?”
“We need to ready an evac for you and Matt for the second he comes up with a self-destruct code.” Dutton frowned deeply, and it was clear he was adding, if he comes up with a code, in his head.
“Say again?” said Desh in confusion.
“The moment this crisis is averted, Matt becomes the most wanted man on earth.”
“What are you talking about?” challenged Desh. “He becomes the most idolized hero on earth.”
“Yeah. That too. Idolized by the people of the world. Feared by their governments.”
Desh considered. “He was just a little too impressive, wasn’t he?”
“You think?” replied Dutton, rolling his eyes. “If I knew they had a Griffin equivalent in China, and suspected he worked for the government, I’d be shitting bricks also. Unofficially, we’d put out a hit on him so fast your head would spin. What do you think China, and Russia, and Iran, and Syria, and a handful of others are planning right now?”
Desh shot the civilian a look of disgust. “So it’s, thanks for saving our bacon, but you’re too off-the-charts talented to be allowed to live?”
“Basically,” replied Dutton. “I think we can protect him, especially on a neutral, weaponless cruise liner. But why take chances?”
“I’m not buying it,” said Desh. “Have you not been paying attention? If we survive the next few hours—an enormous if—the world will never be the same. We’ve got some other species out there to worry about now.”
Jake nodded. “That’s where I came down also. When the survival of the world is at stake, no one is going to take out the only man who has any insight into alien technology and alien programming. No matter which government he’s working for.”
Desh thought about this. Would Matt Griffin become the property of the world, perhaps working for the United Nations? But even as he thought it he knew this was out of the question. Because Matt couldn’t hide for long that he was only brilliant on rare occasions. If he worked publically, he would risk outing Kira’s treatment and Icarus, which was still unacceptable. Matt could still research alien technology, but he’d have to do it from off the grid once again, which would be far more challenging. But those were problems for another day, Desh knew. If there was another day.
“You both may be right, and I’m wrong,” admitted Dutton. “I hope you are. And maybe all nations on earth will share your exact, rational viewpoint. But old habits die hard. Why take the chance? Let’s get Matt off this boat before anybody realizes he’s gone. Let’s get both of you back stateside and release you back into the wild like we promised. What’s the penalty for being on the safe side?”
“Agreed,” said Desh after a few seconds of further thought. “But Jake needs to be our escort on the evac. That’s the deal.”
“Why?”
“He’s the only one we trust.”
“How touching,” said Dutton with a sneer. “Even though he killed one of you? And has tried to kill you all?”
This was a direct hit on an open sore, but Desh forced himself to not let it show. “Right,” he said evenly.
“Whatever you say,” said Dutton.
“And one more thing,” added Desh. “We have to be absolutely sure Matt’s code really does disable the nanites before we go anywhere.”
“No shit,” snapped Dutton with contempt.
56
Matt Griffin was slumped in a wheelchair, still connected to a small peristaltic infusion pump that pushed nutrition from a transparent bag into his bloodstream. Four members of the American contingent made sure the path ahead of him was clear, one pushed him along, while four others, including David Desh, surrounded the chair as it moved, ensuring the most recognizable man on the ship wouldn’t be recognized.
They made it to the makeshift flight deck ten minutes later, just in time for the pill Griffin had swallowed on the way to take effect. A powerful computer, which Griffin had said was sufficient for his needs, awaited him on a desk placed near a large, opulent Sikorsky helicopter, about the size of a Blackhawk, colored white with red accents. It was one of hundreds of helicopters parked in just this single section of upper deck, which before being converted to a heliport had been two beach volleyball courts, a full sized basketball court, and an eighteen-hole miniature golf course. Runways for planes had been built on the opposite end of a deck that was five hundred and twenty yards long. Typically, there was at least some activity here, but now it was deserted. What was the point of going anywhere? There was no outrunning the destruction the nanites were about to unleash, and the Copernicus was as beautiful a setting as any to await death and contemplate the nature of the afterlife.