Max (Maximum Ride 5)

Captain Perry looked frustrated. "We don't know. In the earlier video, we saw part of the wrecked fishing boat in the background of the picture of Dr. Martinez being held hostage. This happened in the same area. The two instances of the dead fish, the enormous flock of birds, the huge thing rising out of the ocean—they're connected somehow. We just don't know how."

Everything is connected, Max, said the Voice. Everything affects everything else, especially in the ocean.

I gritted my teeth in frustration. I'd forgotten how incredibly annoying the Voice could be, with its fortune-cookie pronouncements.

"It's all got to be connected somehow," I said. "Are we headed there now?"

Captain Perry nodded. "We're keeping on code-red alert status, with full radar and sonar surveillance. We don't want that mountain to surge up and break us in half."

My eyes went wide. Was that even a possibility? Why hadn't someone told me this? Why was I even on this sub? If there's anything guaranteed to make me hyperventilate, it's being stuck in a place I can't punch my way out of.

It's okay, Max. I had to stop for a second and distinguish that this voice inside my head was Angel, not the Voice voice. It's okay, Max, Angel thought again. If anything happens, we can all breathe under water, remember? It's like when we're on an airplane—if anything happens to it, we know six kids who will be fine. Same thing here. If anything happens to this sub, the six of us will be able to breathe through our gills. Trust me.

Oh, right. Our gills would appear. Excellent. Now I felt better. Not.

49

THE MAN LOOKED at his second-in-command, who was looking at the third-in-command, who was staring accusingly at the fourth-in-command.

"They… escaped?" The man's voice was brusque.

The third-in-command kicked the fourth-in-command, who was kneeling on the floor, his forehead actually touching the cold metal.

"Yes, sir!" Everyone in the room knew the high cost of admitting such a thing. They also knew how much worse it would have been if he had lied about it. "I beg your forgiveness, sir! But they threw themselves over the edge of a cliff. Our trackers were programmed to follow them—no matter what. They kept attacking, sir. A

nd they went over the cliff as well."

"But they couldn't fly, could they, Zhou Tso?"

"N-no, sir." He cringed.

"Unlike our quarry, who can."

"Yes, sir!"

Mr. Chu thought for a moment, though he already knew what he was going to do. The weakest link in the chain always had to be eliminated. The men and women he answered to would expect no less.

He again met the eyes of his second-in-command. The fourth had failed, which was a failure of the third, who had picked and trained him. So it was also the second's failure, since she had picked and trained the third. Ultimately, this was Chu's own failure, for he had picked and trained his second. That was how it would be viewed by the board. They all knew it.

Mr. Chu sighed, then motioned to his second-in-command. She gave a quick nod, then barked instructions at the two armed guards by the doorway. The fourth-in-command cringed and started to beg for mercy but was immediately silenced. The guards dragged him from the room.

Mr. Chu again sighed heavily. If only the girl had joined his force! It would have been glorious. Instead, she had turned into an increasingly intolerable problem. Fortunately, he was holding the final ace: her mother, Dr. Valencia Martinez.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Mr. Chu turned to look out the small, thick portholes in his office wall. He knew the fourth-in-command's solution would take several minutes. "Now the… mutants are on a U.S. Navy submarine?" Mr. Chu verified, gazing out at the blackness.

"Yes." There was a world of frustration in that one word.

Mr. Chu turned and met the eyes of his second-in-command. "Attacking a U.S. submarine, armed with nuclear warheads, would be suicide. Not only for us, but for those we represent. Even on a global level."

The second-in-command was torn but was forced to admit that Mr. Chu was right. "Yes." She let out the word.

"But, of course, if something were to happen to the bird people while they were not on the submarine…" Mr. Chu let his words trail off, and turned to stare out the portholes. At this depth, no light filtered down from the surface.

One of the armed guards dragged in Dr. Martinez. "Ah, Dr. Martinez," Mr. Chu said pleasantly. "Thank you for joining me. I wanted you to see this. If the CSM does not curtail its activity, a similar fate awaits you."

There was a slight vibration, and Mr. Chu's gaze sharpened. Then—there it was—a rush of bubbles, barely visible, from a torpedo hatch being opened and closed. It was the fourth-in-command's final solution. A dim, pale object in a blue suit shot out into the blackness and seemed to blossom, momentarily, in the dark water. In the next second, it was crushed and compressed into an unrecognizable blob.

At this depth, the water pressure was equivalent to several tons of weight per square inch.