Chapter 7

The seas around Aziz's island seemed to boil in the storm. From shore, looking all around, it would be impossible to see anyone or anything approaching on the surface of the water. Still, Aziz had made sure that lookouts were posted at every approach; everyone was linked by radio. There were even sentries posted in the grotto that had been the sight of Lt. Trish McKeeson's gruesome death in the event that the Americans were stupid enough to send another intruder through that entry. But, no one knew about the second grotto; no one except 2 military planners in Washington, D.C. and a single female swimmer laboring to reach the fortified island in the midst of a storm.

Tracy swam the crawl; her body being swept up and down one swell after another and down into deeper and deeper troughs. If anyone had been able to see the young woman, they would have seen the strong and supple body of a swimmer rhythmically struggling forward; first one arm outstretched and then the other; the nearly naked form of a woman making her way towards the southern end of Jamal Aziz's rocky base.

On board the Wahoo, Drs. Lunt and Selig monitored the physiological data being transmitted from Tracy's implant. Dr. Lunt, especially, was impressed by the sustained exertion the young Navy Lieutenant was able to endure. "Her vitals are looking very good," she commented almost to herself. Dr. Selig was an electrical engineer; she didn't know what if anything Cmdr. Diego knew about physiology. Meanwhile, Dr. Selig monitored through a pair of headphones, the labored sounds of breathing, water, rushing blood, and pumping heart that was being broadcast real-time from Tracy's extraordinary body. "I can hear her struggling in the water," Dr. Selig said as he looked up at Lunt and Diego with concern. The other members of the crew were now caught up in the adventure, as well. They'd seen the beautiful body and heavenly face of the young woman less than an hour before; many of the male members of the crew had instantly fantasized about her. Now, she was one of the good guys, trying to make her objective. They rooted for her quietly; some even prayed.

Tracy was having a difficult time. The storm was much more than she expected. The warmth of the water and the difficulty in getting a clear breath in the heavy seas was causing her to become more fatigued and more quickly than she was prepared for. Unconsciously, her body began to relax in an attempt to allow the wave action to assist her swim; the swells carrying her for a while -- up, down, up, forward, and down; again and again.

Tracy stroked with less energy; her arms were definitely beginning to get tired, and her legs were feeling rubbery. She didn't even think about the implant and the audience her audible efforts were attracting on the unseen submarine. Training and discipline had replaced thought and judgment; Tracy was simply a programmed device in the water; armed and guided by remote control; trying to make her objective within an allotted time.

Somewhere in the middle of her efforts, Tracy realized that the storm was blowing her towards the island. Stopping, she struggled treading water as she looked at her watch. As far as she could judge, she had already gone almost 1 and a half miles in one hour -- despite the waves and the wind of the storm. She was now about 2 miles from the rocky shoals that were the entrance to her objective. Tracy began to feel better. She was ahead of schedule; making landfall, she'd have several hours to rest and collect herself before she dived to the access tunnel and into Aziz's compound. Of course, she also reminded herself, she'd have to get through the underwater tunnel to the grotto that would give her access to the island itself.

Wahoo sat suspended under the waves and wind, exposing only her long antenna to the air as she monitored Tracy's progress. Inside the control room, the crew watched the skipper and the 2 civilians anxiously as they, in turn, monitored Tracy's progress. Dr. Lunt had turned on a monitor attached to a small computer and was watching with rapt interest the virtual image of a naked woman as it moved and twisted in simulated swimming motion. The image looked vaguely like the woman the crew had seen nearly 2 hours before; but, the image lacked the definition or physical beauty of the real thing. Dr. Lunt's "virtual" Tracy was based on the telemetry being sent from her implant; the figure was shapely but smooth and inhuman. The image had no face but an impression of a face with indications of eyes, eyebrows, a nose and mouth. The hair was stiff and unmoving. Where perfect, lovely breasts with well defined nipples should have been, the computer generated 2 round forms protruding from the upper torso of the figure; where the small soft mass of Tracy's pubic hairs should have been, the virtual image displayed only a smooth surface.

Yet, the ability to generate a real-time virtual image of a subject with the implanted device was a breakthrough in technology. Dr. Selig occasionally turned to watch "his" image as it moved and twisted; he felt proud about his achievement, but felt a tinge of modesty as he turned away each time to concentrate on the digital indicators instead. "Besides," he told himself, "the unit will record everything anyway." Dr. Lunt, on the other hand, watched everything and monitored Tracy's vital functions as they were displayed around the virtual image of young woman. In all of this, Cmdr. Diego was dumb-struck by the advanced technology and ran his hand back and forth along a well worn brass rail -- feeling less important than the technology that was making all of this possible. Meanwhile members of the crew alternately gazed at the various dials and lights of their stations and glanced over to the computer image flickering in the humid submarine control room.