Virus by S. D. Perry Page B

suddenly appeared from the Sea Star’s bridge, his face pale with terror. The helmsman saw the floating preserver and seemed to fix on it. He ran, stumbling across the slanting deck—and racing right past Hiko.
    Hiko raised himself up, calling after him. “Woods, I can’t make it! Where you goin’? Come back here, goddamn it—”
    Woods didn’t seem to hear him, didn’t even pause, eyes wild and desperate. He dove off the sinking tug and struck out for the preserver, leaving Hiko behind.
    Foster paced, searched for a place to dive in, but the angle was wrong, too close, she’d land on the sinking boat and break her neck. The anchor chain snapped from its eye suddenly, the heavy chain plunging to the deck and pushing the Sea Star down even faster.
    She turned, started to run towards the fore—
    —and saw Steve sprint out from the entry to below deck and run across to the Volkov’s railing.
    “Woods!” Steve shouted, and Foster looked back, saw that the helmsman had reached the preserver and was watching the Sea Star go down, doing nothing to help the fallen crewman. Hiko had reached the railing; he kicked weakly, trailing blood as he tried to get higher, away from the rapidly rising water, his gaze bright with fear. The tug shifted suddenly, was upended—and then the railing was gone, too, Hiko’s clutching hands disappearing beneath the churning sea.

    Steve had just started to think about catching a short nap when Richie screamed emergency and Everton called for him to come up.
    “Copy, I’m on my way!”
    He handed the radio unit to Squeaky and started for the door of the humming room, pausing just long enough to give instructions.
    “Stay tight! Any sign of trouble, don’t play hero, get your ass outta here.”
    Squeaky gave him a thumbs-up and then Steve was running, down the dimly lit corridor and towards the stairs.
    He took the steps in giant leaps, his thoughts racing. The anchor? The whole goddamn ship was electronic, everything hooked up to computers. It couldn’t have happened, had to be a freak accident or—
    —or someone else is on the ship, his mind whispered coolly, and Steve picked up speed, suddenly worried about more than a sinking tug. The Sea Star would have sunk anyway and it could have been an accident, sure—but wasn’t it strange that the anchor had given way when the smaller ship was directly underneath?
    He hit the A deck, all of the lights on and machinery humming as he raced through the corridors towards the exit to top deck. He noticed fleetingly that the Volkov felt like a different ship, now that it had power—different but somehow just as ominous as when it had been dark and silent . . .
    No time to think. He burst through the hatch onto the open deck and ran for the railing. Foster was running towards him, but his gaze was fixed on the scene below.
    “Woods!” he shouted, but the helmsman only floated there, his pale face turned towards the tug, watching blankly as. the Sea Star slipped beneath the the waves, Hiko still holding on to the railing.
    Steve was dumbstruck, unable to believe what he was seeing; a tense second passed, two, three—and Hiko broke through to the surface, paddling wildly, thrashing helplessly amidst pieces of shattered deck and bobbing debris. And Woods remained exactly where he was.
    Chickenshit bastard!
    Steve saw that Hiko wasn’t going to make it and that Woods wasn’t going to help. Without another thought, he jumped the railing and dove in.
    The fall seemed to take forever, the deck easily three stories above the water. Steve had time to take a deep breath before he hit, plunged deep into the chilled ocean, and came up stroking smoothly towards Hiko.
    The salt stung his eyes and it was cold, but he was close. He reached the struggling Maori in a few seconds.
    “Relax, go limp,” he breathed, and Hiko looked at him gratefully and stopped flailing, let his body relax as Steve wrapped an arm around his neck.
    They started back for the