Genome

by A. G. Riddle

  A gravelly voice rang out in the silence, broadcasting from the radio on the rover. The voice was picked up by the cameras at the two hatches.

  “Doctor Lin Shaw. Doctor Peyton Shaw. We’re not here to harm you. We got off on the wrong foot on the ship. I’m not sure what my men did or said to upset you. I regret the loss of life.”

  He waited.

  “We don’t want anyone else to get hurt. I mean that. If we were going to kill you, we would have simply left. We’re here because we want to bring you back unharmed. Those were my orders. Those directions came from Yuri and Desmond.”

  Peyton and Lin locked eyes. Lin shook her head.

  “It’s true. Desmond has recovered his memories. He knows the truth now. Peyton, he sent us here to bring you and your mother back. He’s very worried. The world is going to change soon.”

  Peyton’s mind raced. What if it’s true?

  “Our adversary is clearly well-trained in the art of deception,” Lin said.

  Like clockwork, her mother always knew what Peyton was thinking.

  “Listen, doctors. If you’ve got other people with you, they can come too. But first, the two of you need to meet us in the mess deck. Come alone, unarmed. We know the route you’re going to take. We’ve got cameras. And a rover. We’ll be following you. Don’t deviate. If anyone else comes along, they’ll be blown to bits.”

  A pause.

  “You have five minutes to get to the mess deck. If you’re not there, we’re coming in after you. Please, doctors. Make the smart choice. Nobody has to get hurt.”

  Lin stood with her helmet held at her side, like an astronaut getting ready to step out onto a foreign planet. “It’s time, Peyton.”

  Peyton could barely feel her body as she got to her feet. She was shaking.

  Lin placed her hands on Peyton’s shoulders. “One step at a time. Stay focused. Don’t think about it. Just take the next step.”

  She picked up Peyton’s helmet and put it on her, then donned her own.

  Peyton tried to slow her breathing. The sound was loud in the helmet.

  “Focus on my voice, Peyton.”

  Her mother brought her helmet to Peyton’s. They touched. Lin stared at her.

  “You can do this.”

  Chapter 12

  The X1 pandemic had hit the USS Carl Vinson especially hard. Of the aircraft carrier’s typical five-thousand-person crew, nearly a thousand had died. Those remaining all wanted one thing: payback.

  They had been searching the Pacific Ocean for weeks, trying to locate the Citium base of operations. Around the clock, planes took off and landed, and their search results were mapped, the grid slowly filling in.

  In the bowels of the ship, in a small stateroom, Avery Price assembled her rifle. She stared at it, then reset the timer and began breaking it apart again. The exercise reminded her of her training in Northern Virginia. The focused, repetitive action was like meditation for her.

  During their off hours, other members of the crew lifted weights, watched movies on their laptops, emailed home, played video games, or knocked boots in their bunks—despite the regulations against it. Avery did none of those things. She thought about Desmond, and when she couldn’t help it, wondered if they were torturing him. And most of all, she wondered if he had remembered. She desperately hoped the Carl Vinson was the ship that found him. She had unfinished business with him—and the men who had taken him. Desmond had sacrificed himself for her, traded his life for hers. She didn’t like being in anyone’s debt. But it was more than that. A lot more than that.

  The clock on the wall read nearly fourteen hundred hours when an alarm blared from the ceiling, and a naval officer said, “General quarters. General quarters. All hands man your battle stations.”

  Yes, Avery thought. We’ve found the Citium.

  Minutes later, she stood on the ship’s bridge. The comm officers were in a frenzy. The XO was barking orders over the shipboard radio.

  Captain Barrow stood still, staring into the middle of the tempest as if deep in thought.

  “I’ll lead the strike team,” Avery said. “The corpsman just cleared me,” she lied.

  “What?”

  “My boots hit the ground first—”

  “We haven’t found them, Price. Comm’s down.” Barrow turned to the XO. “Execute course change, Commander.”

  Course change. Avery glanced around. “Where’re we going?”

  “Our rally point. Standing orders in case of a global comm failure. Now get out of here, Price.”

  “You think this is an attack.”

  Barrow was losing patience. “Yes. A virus infected our equipment.” He squinted. “Wait. Your jacket said you were a programmer before. Get down to—”

  Avery realized what was happening—and who was truly under attack. She had to get to Peyton and Lin Shaw.

  “I need a helo and a special ops team.”

  He laughed. “Get out. Now.”

  “Listen to me, Captain. Disabling the internet and global comms is part of the Citium plan.”

  “Apparently.” He nodded to a tall, muscular sailor standing at parade rest by the hatch. “See that Miss Price makes her way back to her quarters—”

  “Captain.”

  The sailor gripped her arm.

  She grabbed his hand and twisted his thumb until he winced, but his grip didn’t break. “You don’t want to do that,” she said calmly. She focused on the captain. “Allow me to speak for ten seconds, sir. You need to hear this.”

  Barrow gave a quick nod to the man gripping Avery’s arm. He let his hand fall away.

  “Ours isn’t the only Rubicon operation. There’s another one—above the Arctic Circle. A partnership with the Russians. If we’re in a blackout, there’s a reason. The other mission is likely under attack. We need to send a team to investigate.”

  “I have my orders, Miss Price. And I take them seriously. Every person and every aircraft could be needed to defend the United States.”

  He motioned to the sailor. “Make sure she’s in her quarters until further notice.”

  Chapter 13

  Lin insisted on walking twenty feet ahead. The beams from Peyton’s helmet shone into the darkness, revealing only a faint glimpse of her mother’s lithe form. She knew her mother well, and why the older woman was putting herself out front: to protect Peyton. Her mother was placing herself in front of her daughter—in case there were more booby traps.

  Lin’s voice was calm over Peyton’s helmet speaker. “Stay where you are.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m at the hatch.”

  Lin grunted. The roar of steel on steel echoed in the dark passage, like an ancient vault being opened.

  Smoke and gas billowed into the passageway. It dispersed and settled near the deck like a layer of fog.

  “Let’s resume,” Lin said.

  Peyton tried to control her nerves as she walked through the mist. Each step could be her last. She stumbled and braced herself against a wall.

  Lin whispered, “I see the rover. Peyton, join me so they can see us both.”

  Peyton turned the corner and found her mother standing in the sea of smoke up to her knees, the beams of her helmet pointed down at the rover, boring a hole through the cloud. She stopped beside her. The rover spun on one track like a toy tank, drove around them, and stopped at the hatch. It was standing watch—for anyone following behind them.

  Lin resumed walking. Peyton followed, her heart beating faster with every step. A trickle of sweat ran down her forehead, into her eyes.

  The smoke dispersed as they went.

  A message had been scrawled on a piece of paper taped to the bulkhead up ahead.

  REMOVE HELMETS

  Lin removed hers first, extinguishing the two beams of light.

  Peyton reached up and placed her gloved finger on her helmet’s latch. This was the most dangerous part of the plan. Once the helmets were off, their adversary could use tear gas or ma
ce. Or take them down a hundred other ways.

  It didn’t matter. There was no turning back.

  She unlatched the helmet and slipped it off. The freezing air assaulted her face and flowed into the suit, the smell slightly acidic with a hint of gun smoke.

  They stood in darkness, waiting. Footfalls echoed ahead. Then behind. Two. Maybe three. If there were three, that would be a problem. She and her mother had planned on two. They could only handle two.

  A narrow beam of light came on, like a train in a tunnel.

  Peyton was blinded for a moment. When her eyes adjusted, she could make out two figures behind the light.

  “Take the suits off, ladies.” She recognized the gravelly voice from the radio.

  “It’s too cold,” Lin said, emotionless.

  “Then you better hurry.”

  Lin hesitated, then glanced at Peyton and began removing her suit.

  Moment of truth.

  Peyton’s hands shook as she took off the bulky garment. She didn’t know if it was her nerves or the cold, but with each passing second, she shivered more.

  When the suit fell to the ground, she stood in her boots and a layer of insulated clothes over thermal underwear. The gun she had hidden under the bulky clothes bulged at her waist. She felt naked, as if they could see the weapon clearly. The gun hidden below Lin’s clothes was even more obvious.

  The man’s tone turned playful. “You ladies are more voluptuous than we expected.” The levity left his voice. “You reach for those guns and we’ll shoot you. I won’t warn you again.”

  A pause. No one moved.

  “Now lift your arms and hold them straight out. Lin, turn around, face away, and march backward toward me. Peyton, stay where you are. Don’t move.”

  Lin turned and walked backward, careful not to trip over the suits on the floor. She stared at Peyton, her eyes shining, unblinking. In her mind, Peyton could hear her mother’s unspoken words. Be brave, darling.

  A hand gripped Peyton’s side, right below her breast, reached under her shirt, and yanked the gun free, holster and all. It fell to the metal floor.

  A second man approached Lin from behind and removed her gun.

  So there were three men. The two who had disarmed them, plus the gravelly-voiced man holding the light.

  The man behind her reached around and ran his hands down her chest. Hands gripped Lin as well.

  The older woman acted first. She spun, grabbed the man’s neck, and squeezed.

  A bolt of terror went through Peyton. Just as quickly, her instincts took over. She pressed her thumb into the ring on her index finger, exposing the three needles on the bottom. She lashed out at the man. Her hand connected with his neck, right at his carotid artery.

  Behind her, she heard the other soldier gasping for air as the toxin from Lin’s ring paralyzed him.

  The man holding Peyton released his grip and collapsed to his knees. He glared with malice in the dim light.

  “You b—”

  Foam flowed from his mouth as he fell forward.

  Peyton depressed the button on the ring and slid it off. It hit the floor with a clink. It was a single-use device, but she didn’t want to risk injecting herself, in case there was any residual poison.

  Behind her, the beam of light jerked wildly, like a strobe in a night club. Lin screamed.

  Peyton turned. In the flashes of light, she saw that the soldier who had frisked Lin was lying still, but the man with the light was now struggling to hold Lin’s arms. He swung the light, hitting her in the face. She screamed, a ragged, bone-chilling sound, and fell to the floor, flailing, crawling toward the gun. The man fell on top of her, reaching for her arms.

  “Peyton!” she spat, flecks of blood flying from her mouth. “Please, Peyton.”

  The man pinned Lin with his elbows and wrapped his hands around her throat.

  Peyton staggered forward. Lin’s holster and gun lay at her feet. She bent and drew the weapon out, barely able to hold it straight with her shaking hands.

  Lin’s eyes bulged.

  “Let her go.” Peyton’s voice shook as much as her hands.

  The man didn’t look up.

  “Do no harm, Doc.”

  Lin’s arms fell limp.

  “Drop the gun and no one gets hurt.”

  Lin stared at her daughter, pleading with her eyes. She had seconds to live.

  Peyton placed her other hand on the gun, steadying her grip.

  She pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 14

  The sound of heels clacking on the library floor drew Desmond’s attention. Jennifer sauntered toward him. She wore a navy dress that was tight around her hips, and a white blouse, low-cut and loose around her chest. A tan cardigan hung over her shoulders, her auburn hair falling around it.

  She stopped at the long table by the three-story window and set a small, gift-wrapped package in front of Desmond.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “A little Christmas gift,” she said, shrugging sheepishly.

  “I…” He had lost all track of time, didn’t even know it was Christmas.

  “Just open it, Des.”

  He pulled the package close, and smiled when he saw the wrapping paper: it was a series of printed pages with screen captures and the logo from the TV series Alias.

  “Thought you might like the homemade wrapping paper.”

  “I do. Love that show,” he said. He peeled the pages off, revealing three paperback books, all by Phillip Pullman: The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass. The complete trilogy was entitled His Dark Materials.

  “I figure you can’t spend every waking hour reading non-fiction in this library. You need some relief.”

  True. He turned the books over, taking in the covers, then looked up. “I don’t have anything—”

  “I don’t need anything.”

  He glanced at the books again.

  “You know, you also don’t have to take all your meals here,” she said. “Might do you good to get out.”

  It would. She was right. But he also knew it would end badly for her. He imagined them sitting down to dinner—not at a fancy place, but a cozy one, somewhere relaxed, where they could wear whatever they wanted and talk and stay as long as they wanted. They’d discuss the books she gave him and each talk about where they were from, him dancing around the truth about why he’d left Oklahoma for California. Things would progress from there. And like his relationship with Peyton, it would hit a dead end. That’s what he was: an emotional dead end. He was toxic. He would hurt her like he had Peyton. He was lonely, and craved companionship, but he couldn’t do it—wouldn’t hurt her.

  “I’d like to,” he said, measuring each word. “But I can’t.”

  She smiled. “You can’t read and sleep all the time.”

  “I’m here for a reason.”

  “So am I.”

  He thought she was talking about him. He opened his mouth to respond, but she pulled a chair out, sat, and spoke before he could.

  “I’m a grad student at Stanford. In physics.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m here for the same reason as you.”

  He squinted. “You are?”

  “My professor is a member of the Citium. I want to join. Most of all,” she motioned to the stacks of books on the table, “I want to be admitted to this library. I want to know what they’ve found. I envy you. You must be very important to them.”

  Desmond shook his head. “Yuri invited me here—”

  “For a reason.”

  Desmond nodded.

  “He wants something from you.”

  “I have no doubt of that.”

  They stared at each other, the buzzing lights the only sound in the cavernous space.

  “I want something too,” Desmond said. “When I was a child, something happened that changed me. I didn’t realize it for a long time. Until I fell in love.”

  “What happened?”

  “I d
iscovered that I wasn’t capable of loving her the way she loved me. That’s why I’m here. I want to be able to change myself. That’s what Yuri’s promised me.”

  She stood and smiled, not a happy or amused smile, but one of sympathy and concern. “I hope you find what you need.”

  Chapter 15

  The shot was deafening in the cramped passageway. Despite Peyton’s shaking hands, it hit the man in the shoulder, propelling him off of Lin, into the bulkhead. He screamed, then turned and dove for Peyton.

  She staggered back, tripped over the lifeless soldier at her feet, and fell on her rear. But she held tight to the gun.

  The wounded man leapt on top of her like a feral animal, grabbing for the gun with his good hand. He grasped her forearm and slammed it into the metal floor. On the second strike, the gun clattered away.

  The man crawled over her, dragging his torso over her face, crushing her. The floor felt like a block of ice grinding into the back of her head. He reached for the gun.

  Peyton punched him on both sides, but he barely moved, the blows harmless against his body armor. She brought her knee up into his groin. He arched his back, screamed, and glowered at her, hate in his eyes. Peyton squirmed, trying to get away, but she was trapped.

  He raised his fist, and his mouth twisted into a grin. He waited, letting the fear grip her, as if he was absorbing power from her, feeding on her fear. Peyton could only raise her arms above her face.

  She heard him laugh. In the dim light, she saw her mother lying ten feet away, unmoving. Possibly dead.

  A crack silenced his laughter. The man’s head exploded like a dropped watermelon. The echo of the gunshot seemed to follow a second later.

  His body snapped back, then toppled forward.

  Peyton twisted to the side, her face narrowly avoiding the waterfall of blood spilling down. The man landed with a disgusting thud, still pinning her down. She pushed up with her elbows and tried to crawl out, but he was too heavy, and she was too exhausted.