meg generations, page 27
part #6 of meg Series
The last time he had experienced claustrophobia was twenty-five years ago when the deep-sea submersible pilot had returned to the Mariana Trench seven years after his final, fateful dive with the U.S. Navy. Down on his luck, Jonas had been recruited by Masao Tanaka to escort his son, D.J., to the bottom to recover a damaged seismic drone. The two men had made the 35,755-foot descent aboard one-man submersibles scarcely larger than a coffin, so the claustrophobia was certainly justified. The encounter with a pair of Megalodon had not ended well for either Terry’s younger brother or the male shark that had killed him.
Jonas had dived the abyss twice more over the years―once to rescue his wife at the bottom of the Challenger Deep; the last time two years earlier to save his son who had been trapped with Kaylie Szeifert several thousand feet below the seafloor in the ancient realm of the Panthalassa Sea. His wingman on that dive had been Angel, and the journey had not ended well for either the Meg or David’s girlfriend … still the claustrophobia had not returned.
So why was he feeling so nervous aboard a billionaire’s private jet?
Maybe it had something to do with the information Mac had emailed him an hour earlier regarding one of Dr. Johnny Hon’s business ventures …
* * *
Jonas and Terry had met the billionaire days earlier on a Skype call.
Professor Taylor, it is an honor to finally speak with you and your lovely wife, who I am so thrilled to see up and about. When I heard Terry was in a coma, I immediately contacted my friend, Dr. Chi to see if he could be of service.
Terry and I are incredibly grateful for what you’ve done. If there is anything we can ever do to repay you―
Nonsense. What I did was simply to plant the seeds of friendship with someone whose work I have admired for several decades. I appreciate your wife cutting her therapy short to meet with me. Time is of the essence, as you will learn.
The truth, Professor Taylor, is that the three of us share a common enemy. Cancer has robbed me of friends and loved ones, fueling a passion to find a cure. Two years ago, a colleague of mine made an incredible discovery in the field of neurogenesis that has brought us to Phase-2 of human trials. So far, everything looks very good.
Terry had been especially excited. That’s wonderful, Dr. Hon. When will you be announcing your discovery to the rest of the world?
Soon. There are still a few small hurdles to overcome before we make it public.
If there is anything Jonas and I can do to help …?
Actually, Mrs. Taylor, I was hoping to pick your husband’s brain regarding a few potential solutions. If the two of you would be willing to come to Hong Kong, it would be an honor to share the information with you … provided you have no problem signing a non-disclosure agreement.
They had signed the NDA and Johnny Hon had sent his private jet to meet them.
Always suspicious, Mac had done some investigating of his own. He had learned that Global Group International Holdings had made seven-figure donations to several cancer research funds over the years, the most recent monies going to a non-profit research company run by a female microbiologist named Sara Jernigan.
Sixteen months earlier, Global Group had invested upwards of a billion dollars into China’s number two ranked science and technology project to construct an underwater lab; the new venture involving an engineering firm in Sweden. This struck Mac as odd since the project was part of China’s five-year economic growth package. Upon further investigation he learned that the Swedish firm was headed by Sara Jernigan’s brother-in-law, Jordan Bittel, a structural engineer who was discreetly recruiting members of the Dubai team hired to capture prehistoric life forms inhabiting the Panthalassa Sea.
* * *
Jonas looked up as one of the Chinese flight attendants entered the cabin. Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor; the captain has asked me to inform you that we have begun our descent and will be landing shortly.
Jonas checked his watch. I must have miscalculated; I don’t have us arriving in Hong Kong for another two hours.
She forced a smile. There’s been a slight change in plans. Dr. Hon will be meeting you at the cancer research facility.
And where is that?
I do not know; the location is secret.
You must know where we’re landing.
Of course, Mr. Taylor. We are landing in Guam.
* * *
The private jet eased into a gentle touch down. Rather than head for the terminal, the pilot taxied several miles to the east end of the airport and an awaiting Z-18A Chinese utility helicopter.
The attendant opened the cabin door, releasing a short flight of stairs. The helicopter which will take you directly to the cancer research facility. Dr. Hon is waiting for you there.
No.
Terry turned to her husband. What’s wrong?
For starters, we were supposed to land in Hong Kong, not Guam. I don’t like last-minute surprises.
The flight attendant blushed. Forgive me. I should have informed you earlier. Dr. Hon was able to free up his schedule at the last moment and preferred to meet you at the facility, rather than offer you a virtual tour from his headquarters in Hong Kong.
And is the facility on Guam, or is it on another island in the Marianas?
Sir, as I told you earlier, I don’t know.
Jonas, what difference does it make? We’re here.
It makes a big difference. Guam and I don’t have a good history together. Guam was our port-of-call back when I was piloting submersibles for the United States Navy. It’s also where Mac and I nearly died trying to prove the Megalodon had surfaced after your brother was killed.
You’re being silly. Come on, I need to get off this plane and stretch my legs.
Jonas paused, not wanting to admit his real fear to his wife. Instead, he followed her down the steps to the tarmac―
―and into the embrace of Dulce Lunardon. Mrs. T., oh my God, can you believe we’re all in Guam? Mr. T―
Don’t call me Mr. T; Jonas is fine. What are you doing here? Is David with you?
Do you think he’d actually leave his pet for more than a day? As for me, I arrived last night in a C-5 cargo plane.
Carrying what?
I can’t tell you, mister… Jonas. I had to sign all these confidentiality papers.
Terry smiled sweetly. Dulce, do you still wish to marry my son?
Okay, okay. Sting Ray subs … three of them. All outfitted with some serious weaponry.
And why are you here?
I don’t know. I’m assuming they need me to train their sub pilots.
The helicopter’s overhead rotors started revolving, the captain signaling them to board.
Jonas helped his wife into the sixteen-seat passenger cabin, their luggage already stowed in back.
The Chinese co-pilot joined them, offering a hot towel and beverage before handing them each a set of headphones. You’ll need these to hear. It’s a quick twenty-minute flight; Dr. Hon is excited to meet you.
Terry squeezed Jonas’s hand, cutting him off. And we are looking forward to meeting him.
* * *
They flew east over the island before following the coastline to the north. For a brief moment Anderson Air Force Base appeared in the distance, and then the view turned to a stretch of deep blue as far as the eye could see.
Western Pacific … the Marianas Islands… it’s like a bad déjà vu.
Jonas gazed at the tremor in his right hand. Breathing slowly, he inflated his belly and slowly released the breath, repeating the mantra his therapist had taught him over the previous ten months.
I control me…
I control me…
The shaking stopped.
Stay calm and figure this out. What are the chances Johnny Hon built his modern cancer research facility on one of these godforsaken volcanic islands? As Mac would say, slim and none, and slim just got kicked in the balls by the unforgiving boot of reality.
Cancer research, my ass … Johnny Hon is building his own version of Dubai-Land in China. Did he convert an oil tanker to stow his catch of prehistoric fish like the crown prince? Or maybe he’s got a fleet of frigates linked together by deep-water nets. Either way, if he’s deploying the new Sting Rays, he means to capture these creatures either in the Mariana Trench, or worse, in the Panthalassa Sea, and I want nothing to do with it.
Jonas’s thoughts were interrupted by the co-pilot’s announcement over his headphones. Good afternoon. I hope everyone had a nice flight. Please make sure your seatbelts are fastened; we’ll be landing in the next five minutes.
He turned to Terry. Her headphones were off, she and Dulce involved in a detailed conversation concerning wedding plans. Leaving his seat, he headed forward to the cockpit to get an idea of the kind of ship they’d be landing on.
The co-pilot motioned for Jonas to sit in the jumpseat behind him before he handed him a set of binoculars. We’re about two kilometers out.
Jonas strapped in and then gazed through the powerful magnifying glasses.
At first he couldn’t see it, its clear surface reflecting the sea and sky. But as the helicopter drew closer, he realized what he was looking at.
My God …
It wasn’t a ship, it was a massive complex of biospheres, the center object towering at least twenty stories above the surface and twenty below. A dark hoop-shaped framework encircled the object’s equator like the rings of Saturn but appeared to be part of an enormous docking station rather than the biosphere itself. Six smaller spheres were situated around the perimeter of the large ring, each docked within its own oval-shaped berth. A clear tunnel linked these smaller objects to the large biosphere.
Two of the eight smaller docking berths were vacant.
The pilot brought the helicopter to hover over one of the station’s helipads. A twenty-knot gust of wind rocked the airship as it set down. Within seconds a ground crew appeared, each worker wearing an orange jumpsuit. One crewman quickly secured the chopper’s landing gear to the pad while a second opened a metal plate from the helipad and removed a hose, connecting it to the chopper’s fuselage to refuel the airship for its return trip.
Jonas rejoined Dulce and Terry, who were being helped down from the cabin by another orange-clad worker while his associate unloaded their luggage.
A woman was waiting for them outside the airship, one hand pressing her iPad to her chest, the other holding her hair bun to her head to keep the helicopter’s rotor from unraveling it.
She shouted to be heard. Mrs. Taylor … Molly Wilken. I’ll be escorting you and Professor Taylor to Dr. Hon.
What about me? Dulce Lunardon.
Molly tapped her iPad. You are scheduled for orientation, which begins in seventeen minutes. Let’s go inside so we can talk. She motioned to the biosphere, leading them to an open watertight door.
The women entered the structure; Jonas pausing to inspect the curved hatch. The inside panel was constructed of steel, the outer shell composed of a clear sixteen-inch plastic which appeared seamless.
He caught up with the ladies, who were waiting for him inside an encapsulated interior passage which spanned the ten-foot gap between the biosphere’s outer shell and a completely different interior sphere.
Molly pointed above their heads where the sun was reflecting off a labyrinth of plastic support struts which crisscrossed the gap, buttressing both spheres to one another. "As you can see, the exterior and interior shells are separated by three meters of space which the Chinese refer to as sheng chi, which translates into the celestial or dragon’s breath. This is where we take on and shed ballast in order to maneuver the sub."
Dulce’s eyes widened. This giant beach ball is a sub? How does it maneuver?
"There are pump-jet propulsor units mounted throughout the sheng chi. Now let me show you a technological marvel that is the 21st century equivalent of the Great Wall of China."
Molly continued through the passage to a second watertight door, its plastic layer twice as thick as the first. They entered another encapsulated passage only this one was pitch dark, save for specks of light appearing and disappearing outside of the walls of the structure.
Terry gripped Jonas’s hand. There’s something out there.
You are correct, Molly said. Touch any wall and see what happens.
Dulce was the first to comply, running her index finger along the plastic, generating a neon-violet spark of light along the outside of the sensory-laden wall―
―which was immediately swarmed upon by a school of viperfish, the deep-sea denizens three to four feet
long, their frightening jaws sprouting needle-sharp curved fangs that were too long to fit inside their mouths.
Jonas ran his palms along another section of wall, igniting a stream of static blue electricity. Before he could react, a six-foot goblin shark struck the glass with its extended snout, its open jowls revealing chaotic rows of razor-sharp teeth.
A chorus of dull thumps pummeled the exterior as species of anglerfish and snaggletooth charged the barrier, each contact generating more bioluminescent sparks which only increased the ferocity of the attacks.
Impressive, Jonas said. How large is this aquarium?
Not large. It’s roughly the size of an eighteen-wheeler. It’s what we call a mood-setter.
They continued down the passage which ran another twenty feet before it curved around a bend, revealing the exit which was framed by the open-fanged mouth of a fearsome yellow dragon, its ten-foot-high marble face animating as they approached, steam pouring from its nostrils, its red eyes blazing brightly.
Terry and Jonas passed through the open jaws―
―stepping out into the atrium of a five-star hotel. Blue sky appeared overhead, illuminating twenty floors of guest suites set in an open square configuration. Eight bullet-shaped elevators rose and dropped along the interior angles of the infrastructure, guarded by the twisting, curling figure of an eighty-foot-tall Chinese dragon, the statue casting an amber glow over the grand entrance.
A hotel? Jonas turned to Molly Wilken. I thought this was supposed to be a cancer research center?
The research center occupies the lower floors. All of your questions will be answered during your virtual tour. Come.
She led them around the dragon centerpiece to what appeared to be the twenty-foot-high curved walls of a giant Nautilus shell. Entering the structure, Jonas realized it was a small auditorium, the reclinable seats facing 270 degrees of blue screen.
Sit anywhere you’d like. The orientation video is eleven minutes long; when it’s over you’ll be joining Dr. Hon for lunch. Dulce, if you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to your orientation session.
Dulce waved goodbye, following Molly out of the circular theater―
―the screen animating as the overhead lights darkened.
A revolving series of images appeared, featuring scientists in white coats working in labs, physicians examining patients, and adults and children lying in hospital beds, their hairless scalps indicative of numerous sessions of chemotherapy.
Actor Morgan Freeman’s soothing voice-over accompanied the scenes. "Cancer. One in three people will be diagnosed with the disease; one in five will die. According to the World Health Organization, cancer cases are expected to surge 57% worldwide in the next 20 years, with cancer deaths predicted to rise to 13 million a year. Smoking, alcohol, obesity, poor living habits, environmental pollutants, and an aging populace are all factors in this cancer epidemic―an epidemic that has given rise to a $2 trillion-a-year industry.
The search for a cure is often dictated by economics. While the molecular ingredients found in certain plants, vegetables, fruit, and animals produce almost no side effects and are far more readily assimilated by our organs, Big Pharma will not invest their research dollar in substances created by Mother Nature, simply because they cannot be patented. This has had a profound effect on research, limiting treatments to artificial medicines which our bodies have trouble assimilating, leading to harmful side effects.
The scene shifted to a female scientist working in a private lab.
This is Dr. Sara Jernigan, one of the most respected molecular biologists in the world. Dr. Jernigan has spent the past twenty years exploring isolated habitats in order to find natural cures to diseases. Two years ago, she discovered a powerful enzyme produced by the liver of a marine organism that supercharged the human immune system and reactivated the cancer cell’s TP-53 gene.
Dr. Jernigan took over, narrating a scene of a cancer cell appearing under an electron microscope. The TP-53 gene is our cells’ anti-cancer defense system; it prevents the mutation of the genome by causing apoptosis, which is a cell’s self-destruct sequence. This is far different than chemo or radiation, which doesn’t discriminate and destroys everything, including the body’s immune system. When this liver enzyme was introduced to patients with stage-4 cancers, it induced widespread apoptosis, killing 100% of the cancer cells within forty-eight hours without any harmful side effects.
Morgan Freeman continued. "What is the marine organism responsible for producing this natural anti-cancer
enzyme, and where can it be found? To appreciate the unique challenges Dr. Jernigan and her team faced in accessing the species’ natural habitat, we must journey back in time …"
An image of ancient Earth appeared, the seven continents grouped together as one.
Our planet is six billion years old. Life first appeared in our oceans 3.5 billion years ago as a single-celled organism, and over the next 3 billion years or so nothing changed. And then, about 540 million years ago, something wondrous happened―life evolved.
The scene changed, revealing a vast underwater world teeming with life.
From multicellular organisms came trilobites and corals, jellyfish and mollusks, sea scorpions and squids. Over the next 53 million years the ‘Cambrian Explosion’ began making its own design changes. At some point, a new species appeared which possessed a backbone that separated its brain and nervous system from the rest of its organs, and the age of fish―the Devonian Era―had arrived.
