Extinction Plague: Matt Kearns 4
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This specimen had half extended the needle-like proboscis that it used to pierce its prey, inject the digestive enzyme, and then later suck out the liquefied calcium and silicon compounds.
Hammerson turned then to the last specimen.
“Jesus,” he whispered, and folded his arms as he stared at the thing tied to the block. It had been captured just a few hours ago, and had to weigh in at forty pounds. The damn thing was nearly three feet long.
The eight legs were spread wide, and on the end of each there was a branching that made it look like there was a tiny hand complete with fingers. The face now looked like some sort of human-insect gargoyle mix and it made the skin on his scalp crawl.
“Why does it look like that?” Hammerson asked softly.
Hartigan shrugged. “Maybe its diet is influencing the way it looks. Maybe eventually, when it reaches its final form, it plans to try and blend in with the herds of its prey … us.”
“Be a cold day in hell.” Hammerson ground his teeth.
“Hell is right.” Hartigan nodded. “Its evolutionary changes are alarmingly fast. But though its appearance is quite disconcerting –”
“Disconcerting?” Hammerson frowned. “You think?”
Hartigan flat smiled. “Just distancing myself scientifically from the horror of the silicoid creatures, Colonel.”
“Silicoids.” Hammerson snorted.
Doctor Miles took over. “Its external appearance is certainly alarming, Colonel, and with its silicon armor plating, and biomechanical exoskeleton it is extremely strong for its size. But it’s the internal changes that concern us.”
Hammerson laughed softly. He knew that if it concerned these guys, it probably was for damned good reason. “Tell me,” he said softly.
Using gloved hands, she grasped the head of the largest creature and removed the top of its skull. The exoskeleton plating had obviously been separated before, and now lifted like a lid.
Beneath there was a pulpy pink-gray mass showing the gyrus and sulcus folds.
“It has a brain?” Hammerson waited.
“Oh yes, all insects have primitive brains. Though the insect brain does not play as important a role as human mammalian brains do. In fact, an insect can live for several days without a head, assuming it does not lose a lethal amount of hemolymph, the insect equivalent of blood, upon decapitation.”
Doctor Miles pointed. “The previous versions of the silicoids had a more normal brain for arthropod creatures in that it was little more than a brain stem. Like a spinal cord with a lump of neuron clusters at one end.”
She walked along the table, pointing to each specimen. “In each version or iteration, its brains grew exponentially, and with it we assume its intelligence.” She stopped at the largest version. “Neurons vary in number among insect brains. The common fruit fly has one hundred thousand neurons, while a honeybee has one million neurons – they are regarded as the smartest insects and have fantastic memories.”
“As a benchmark, a human being has eighty-six billon neurons,” Hartigan added. His lips set in a grim line as he stared down at the creature.
“And these things?” Hammerson asked.
“This guy here, about fifty million. See those tiny digits on the end of its arms? They’re fully dexterous.” Lana looked up. “They’re problem-solvers now, Colonel.” She stepped back and took off her gloves. “For now, they’re not even as smart as a dog. And that’s a good thing. But each version is hundreds of times smarter than the previous version.”
Hammerson exhaled through his nose. “How long?”
“Until they’re as smart as we are?” Hartigan’s eyes were resigned. “Possibly three more iterations. In about five they’ll be smarter than we are.”
“And possibly a lot bigger.” Hammerson began to turn away. “Keep working, time is growing short.”
Hammerson felt a little lightheaded. The iterations were occurring cyclically at around one every two weeks. In less than two months their adversaries would be their equals. In another month, the bugs would be their superiors.
“One more thing, sir.”
Hammerson turned, his mind still whirling with what he had just heard.
“You asked why the silicoids seemed to be converging.” Hartigan walked forward.
“And where they were converging. Go on.” Hammerson waited.
“Silicon, of course,” Hartigan replied. “They’re primarily made up of it, they ingest it, they seek it out. And where are the largest silicon mines in the US?”
Hammerson slowly nodded. “Minnesota.”
Hartigan gave him a crooked smile. “It’s a theory.”
“It’s one that makes sense. Well done.” Hammerson gave him a small salute. “Keep at it.”
Hammerson headed for the door. He had plans to make and a million things to do. Priority one, the president needed to know where they were up to, and the risks and options, one of them being nuking swathes of their own countryside. It wasn’t a call Hammerson was looking forward to making.
CHAPTER 30
USA – USSTRATCOM Headquarters, sub-level 1 laboratories
Matt stood as Jack Hammerson entered their laboratory facility. It had been a while since he had been in the tough HAWC leader’s physical presence, and the first thing he noticed was the man still looked as bull-necked and formidable as ever. But the second thing he noticed was his eyes looked tired as hell.
Hammerson gave Matt a flat smile and shook his hand. “Well done on the stone retrieval.” He crossed to where the two large slabs had been laid side by side. “Let’s hope you can make something of them.” He turned. “Have you been brought up to date?”
Matt shook his head. “We came straight from the landing pad. We’d still like to get cleaned up, and maybe grab something to eat.”
“Of course. Straight after we finish speaking.” He placed his hands on his hips. “I won’t lie to you, son, events are spinning away on us, and we’re definitely on the back foot here.”
“When we spoke a few weeks back you mentioned that the first stone had some dates that paralleled with the mass extinctions of our past. And it also contained an image of the bug things we are calling silicoids. We are of the firm belief now that these things may very well have been responsible for those extinctions.” He looked grim. “Now it seems it’s our turn.”
Matt blinked. “It’s getting that bad?”
“Yes, that bad, and then some. It’s a global plague,” Hammerson said. “But what you’ve already been able to discern so far leads me to believe that the people that made these stones have seen this before, and knew about the creatures. Perhaps even knew how to stop them. After all, if not, then there’d be no life on Earth other than these goddamn things, right?”
“That’s what I think as well,” Matt replied. “The Aztlanteans were sophisticated enough to chart the creature’s historical and future arrival. But there must have been something that stopped the bugs.”
Matt’s brows drew together. “It’s pretty clear that they have come before, and it looks like it was often. Perhaps there are sporadic outbreaks that flare and then die out. And then there are the massive waves that wipe out entire species.”
“The mass extinctions.” Hammerson nodded.
“Yes, and people have vanished in the past – hundreds of thousands of people, and all inexplicably.” Matt counted off on his fingers. “There were the Mayans of around 900 BC. A thriving population, or what was left of them, fled their cities and vanished into the jungle. The Indus Valley, three thousand years ago, where the Happen civilization that comprised almost ten percent of the world’s population – five million people spread over a region that encompassed parts of today’s India, Pakistan, Iran and Afghanistan – all just disappeared. And so many more, all gone, gone, gone.”
Hammerson grunted. “It’s like something was doing test runs. Or perhaps just a small portion of whatever it is leaks out, before a major event occurs: the mass extinctions.”
Hammerson gave them a flat smile. “Please tell me you can find out the when, and the where.” He lifted his chin. “There’s fresh clothing and food prepared for you right here. Unfortunately, you cannot leave the base now, as we are all in lockdown until we get some answers.”
“C’mon, Jack, I’m a prisoner?” Matt scoffed.
“Of course not.” Hammerson held his arms wide. “You’re an official guest of the Commander in Chief.” He smiled. “You know the drill, son. Find us some answers, and do it quick.”
Matt walked slowly toward the two stones. “If the answers are here, I’ll find them.” He held up a finger. “But on one condition. I need to check whether my mom and annoying cousin are okay.”
“We can reach out, but you can’t be discussing anything that’s classified. Which is basically everything you’re working on,” Hammerson replied.
“At a minimum, I want to check they’re safe.” Matt lowered his brow.
“No problem, where are they?” Hammerson smiled.
“Walnut Grove, Minnesota.”
Hammerson worked to hold his smile. “Sure, Matt, leave it with me.”
*
Following a scalding shower and a huge breakfast, Matt reentered the laboratory. First thing he saw was a long bench that held both stone tablets, and standing beside it were two people, a man and a woman he hadn’t meet before. The man, tall and slim, walked toward Matt with his hand outstretched.
“Doctor Phillip Hartigan.” He motioned to the intense but attractive-looking young woman standing beside him. “And my colleague, Doctor Lana Miles.”
The woman was maybe early thirties, and perhaps of Sri Lankan heritage. She had the largest and darkest eyes Matt had ever seen.
“Matthew Kearns, professor of linguistics.” Matt shook their outstretched hands.
“We know. We know all about you and have been looking forward to meeting you,” Hartigan replied. “The colonel speaks very highly of you, so we’re also looking forward to pooling ideas and working together.”
“Sure.” Matt beamed. “What are your specializations?”
“Entomology, evolutionary biology, chemistry, and with a specialization in disease vectors,” Lana replied casually. “And surfing.”
Matt’s brows came together at that. “Uh, me too. In fact, I love it.”
“Ever been to Bells Beach?” she asked.
“What?” He grinned. “Yes.”
Hartigan poured Matt a coffee and handed it to him. “We think these creatures evolved at a time long before the first carbon-based life-forms appeared. Somehow their eggs get released to the surface from time to time, they hatch, and then seek out sustenance.”
“Unfortunately that seems to be us,” Matt added, and glanced at Lana who toasted him with her coffee.
“Actually, not just humans, but anything and everything that has a worthwhile level of silicon and calcium in its physiology. This in itself is revolting, sure, but we could probably deal with that,” Hartigan said. “The problem is we think that perhaps something in the atmosphere or the sunlight is accelerating their evolutionary growth. Millions of years of evolution in mere months.”
“It took mankind four million years to go from a three and half foot high hominid on the grassy plains of Africa to where we are today. These silicoids will be on the same evolutionary rung as us in a few more months’ time.” Lana shrugged. “In another month, beyond that.”
“But something stopped them before,” Matt added. “Like Jack Hammerson said, otherwise, we wouldn’t be here to even talk about it.” He stepped up closer to the stone tablets. There were downlights playing on their surface and the stones had been fitted together so their seams joined.
Matt traced a hand from one to the other, and then nodded. “Look here. This completes the date structures. It’ll at least show us when the next quakes will occur and release the next swarm.”
“But not where,” Hartigan said.
“No, and the Earth is a damn big place.” He ran his hand across the ancient language pictoglyphs. “It’s August, now. The final event calculated is 21 November – the final swarm.”
“Unless we stop it,” Hartigan said. “So how did they do it before?”
Matt found the ancient quote again. “They have come and they will come again. Each ending greater than the last. Only those from the center, or maybe – core, can stop them, when …” He traced across the split in the stone to the next one. “When … the gal-ka-tar blooms.”
Matt frowned. “The language is a root language and shares overlaps with many ancient tongues. This word string here – gal-ka-tar – has a close comparison to the Sumerian word, ka-tar, or fungus. It’s paired with the symbol gal for large or tall.” He shrugged. “An ancient tall fungus, or tall mushroom?”
“How ancient?” Lana asked.
Matt shrugged. “Might have to be many millions of years old for all we know.”
“Prototaxites,” Lana said confidently.
“Great, what are they, and where are they?” Matt said.
Lana turned to Hartigan and they both laughed darkly. Hartigan lifted his hands. “We didn’t even know what they were when they were first discovered.”
“So, they’re rare?” Matt asked.
“You might say that.” Lana sighed. “Imagine you were in a time before any creatures had come up onto the land, and the only thing living on the planet was mosses, lichens, and some primitive ferns. Then in among this low-level boggy matting, rising up twenty feet like green telegraph poles were these massive fungi. They were the mighty redwoods of our very young primordial planet.” She smiled. “That’s what prototaxites were – a giant anomaly.”
“Sounds amazing,” Matt said. “Where are they now? And even better, how do we get one?”
“Got a time machine?” Hartigan gave him a crooked smile. “Unfortunately, they’re all gone.”
“Once they were all over the planet … once.” Lana nodded. “The prototaxites died out between three hundred and fifty and four hundred million years ago.”
“That’s not possible.” Matt scowled. “The Aztlanteans knew about them, and my gut feel is they also used them somehow. Maybe like a pest control.”
“You mean biocontrol.” Lana smiled. “We do it right now, right here. It’s a method of controlling pests such as insects, mites, weeds, and plant diseases using other organisms. It relies on predation, parasitism, herbivory, or other natural mechanisms. It’s very effective, if done right.”
“The red ladybug,” Hartigan added.
“Correct, and a good example. Rodolia cardinalis, the red vedalia ladybug was imported from Australia to California in the nineteenth century, and was used to successfully control the scale bugs.” She smiled and tilted her head. “A good example of it being used properly.”
“The cane toad.” Matt smiled with little humor. “Is an example of not using it wisely, and an example of the US sending a little something Australia’s way that didn’t work out.” He went on. “In 1935, the Australians released some specially bred cane toads from Hawaii to control the cane beetle problem they were having. Well, it was later discovered that the toads could not jump very high and so were unable to eat the cane beetles that stayed on the upper stalks of the cane plants. So, instead the toads started feeding on everything else, even other toads, frogs, then lizards, and also small mammals.
“Unlike in Hawaii, in Australia they had no predators.” Matt exhaled as he remembered his biology. “And they grew big, some the size of a dinner plate. Oh yeah, and they had poison sacs on their shoulders, so anything trying to eat them usually died.”
“Doesn’t work forever,” Hartigan replied. “The local predators are now adapting. Some snakes are now immune to their poison.”
“Takes generations,” Matt rep
lied.
“I know, and that we don’t have.” Hartigan sighed. “But it does work. And besides, we’ve kinda got our backs to the wall right now. So if using a fungus slows these bugs down or kills them, then we run a unit test on it, then a field test – and then we use it.” He snorted softly. “So where is it? Where did these mystical people of yours find them?”
“I think they told us, and where, on a map,” Matt said.
*
Matt went back to the first stone, and moved back and forth between the two. The map he’d found previously made more sense when the details were fleshed out with what anyone else would have thought were random dots and lines.
He let his hands trail over the greenish stones. “It’s my firm belief that the gal-ka-tar they refer to was either secreted in some hidden place or came from this place.” He sighed and he stared at the carved images. “I’m sure it’s a map.” Matt frowned as he read through the words that accompanied the simple picture. “It’s not clear,” he added softly.
“What can I do to help?” Lana asked.
“Be my sounding board,” Matt replied. “Are these damn things supposed to be coordinates?” He sighed. “Okay, let’s think a little more laterally – the Aztlanteans were the greatest seafaring race of their time, and the land and shorelines didn’t look the same as they do now. Plus, they undoubtedly used an entirely different measurement system.”
“Given the time frame, that makes sense.” Lana opened her search engine. “Tell me what to look for.”
“I need to get inside their heads. So far, I can read that the destination is …” He traced the ancient words. “The tiny jungle covered, something, something, green jewel of the great warm ocean,” Matt translated. “That could be the Indian or the Pacific Ocean. Maybe referring to an island in one of those oceans.”
Lana typed into her computer for a moment. “Well, there are a hundred and fifteen islands in the Indian ocean.” She continued to type.