And then they weren’t. One second they were converging upon us across the flat terrain like monsters from an old sci-fi B movie, the next they had popped into smoldering scorched heaps of burnt crab meat.

The three of us remained motionless, afraid to take a wrong step. There had been no warning, no telltale laser beams or explosives.

Internally, ABE was analyzing my sight memory. Within fifteen seconds the bio-chip had traced the type and source of the weapon.

THE WEAPON WAS A MICROWAVE BEACON. POINT OF ORIGIN: AERIAL DRONE. LOCATION: EASTERN SKY. ALTITUDE: 371 METERS.

I pointed in the advised direction. “There’s a drone up there somewhere.”

Dharma squinted at the volatile eastern sky. “One of GOLEM’s?”

“I’m guessing from Oscar’s reaction that it’s more likely the mysterious Heavenly Ones Who Nurture. Either way, let’s get inside Oceanus before we get blasted by that storm.”

*   *   *

The weeks stranded on shore had not been kind to the massive underwater habitat. Lacking power, the ship’s internal compartments had become stifling, airless chambers that had slowly bled the arboretum dry. The good news: the bees and other “wildlife” were dead. The bad—we would require air supplies to function inside.

The Space Energy Agency had developed SPARE—Solar-Powered Air Rechargeable Equipment. The closest units were stored on the lower level. None of the breathing apparatus would fit Oscar.

An overcast sky yielded a mere twenty-two minutes of air. Dharma would remain outside with the cephaloped, attempting to fill another tank while I searched Oceanus, checking a list of equipment to see what still functioned.

There were thirty-three different ways to construct an EMP weapon, and ABE carried the designs of all but seven of them in its data files. Our goal was simple: As I made my way through the ship, opening targeted control panels and climbing through crawl spaces, the bio-chip would catalog everything on its lists that functioned until one of the design requirements was complete. Then Dharma or I would go back and remove the part—assuming we had fulfilled one of the weapon specifications.

Unbeknownst to my two companions, I would also be searching for a weapon or fast-acting poison that would allow my female companion and I to quickly and painlessly commit suicide.

Donning the mask, I reentered the sphere and headed straight for the nuclear reactor, the control room located beneath the lower level’s removable deck panels. I removed two heavy steel grates, revealing an aluminum ladder that led below into darkness. Guided by ABE, I was searching for a large capacitor and high-voltage thyristor … whatever the hell that was. ABE knew, and cross-referencing the ship’s schematics, it led me to the correct control panels … no easy feat in pitch black.

And then there was light.