Diffusion Box Set

by Stan C. Smith

  She nodded. “Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. And after all these years, you’ve emerged into the light, and you see the world in a different way. It’s a bit more cerebral than the name Rusty.”

  Quentin smiled. “Rusty is a fine name. And it originated from the same basic concept.” He hefted the bag of mbolop talismans to his lap, loosened the top, and gazed inside. It smelled of dried animal skin and dust. It contained hundreds of skin pouches, each of them tied closed around a tree kangaroo figurine. According to Samuel, each of them could save one person’s life. More accurately, each figurine would allow one person to pair up with an mbolop that would then save the person’s life. But from what? From the transforming animals Bobby had described? From old age? From some other impending disaster they didn’t even know about yet? Regardless, the figurines were intended to be used. But Quentin wasn’t about to play god by deciding who should and should not have one. He pulled out a handful of the pouches, put the bag on the floor, and stood up.

  “Can I have everyone’s attention? Bobby, can you wake those two?”

  Bobby shook Ashley to wake her, and since Carlos slept like a log, Bobby shook him much harder.

  Quentin waited until everyone was paying attention, including the pilot. He displayed the pouches with one hand while he held himself steady with the other. His feet lifted from the floor for a few seconds and gently dropped back down.

  “First, as astounding as it is, we’re arriving in Puerto Rico in about four hours.” This elicited blank stares from everyone except Colonel Northcott and his men, who turned to each other and whispered. Quentin went on. “Considering what’s happening there, I would like each of you to have one of these. This is rather difficult to explain, so I’d like to go through it just once.”

  Quentin couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Captain Kirk had stopped the aircraft ten miles off the southern coast of Puerto Rico. They were now hovering at 7,000 feet, with the aircraft positioned parallel to the coast so they could all look out to the north. But their view of the island was blocked by massive columns of smoke. As far as they could see to the east and west, hundreds of fighter jets and helicopters swarmed like flies, constantly dropping explosives. They were bombing the water around the island.

  Quentin pulled his eyes from the window. Colonel Northcott was beside Captain Kirk, leaning over the instrument panel and talking to someone on whatever kind of communication device the aircraft had. At the colonel’s feet was his mbolop, which Northcott had named Bullseye. The colonel had resisted pairing with am mbolop at first, as did all the others, but Bobby had given a heartfelt and convincing exposition on why he believed the mbolop would save their lives, particularly since they were headed to ground zero of the outbreak.

  Next to Northcott was Richards, who was engaged in a sign-language conversation with his mbolop, Clint.

  Northcott finally straightened up. He conferred with Richards for a moment and then stepped away from the cockpit.

  He spoke to the entire group. “Okay, folks, we’ve been given a directive. Forty miles to our east is an Expeditionary Fast Transport vessel, the USNS Spearhead. It’s been designated as one of four command centers strategically positioned around the island, with General Donovan Vickars in command. I’ve convinced General Vickars we’re aboard a friendly aircraft, albeit of unconventional design, and that we’re here to provide assistance. From what I can tell, at this point they’ll take any help they can get, but they absolutely will not allow us to fly over the island until we have presented ourselves for inspection.” He then looked around the cabin at the extraordinary mix of passengers. “The general’s going to shit a brick when he sees this.”

  Several minutes later, flanked by four military helicopters, they were approaching the ship. From above, the USNS Spearhead appeared to be a large metal rectangle with a helicopter pad at one end. A chopper was taking off, possibly to make room for them. In its current configuration, the aircraft was longer than the pad was wide, but Captain Kirk expertly turned it diagonally and dropped onto the pad with the pointed ends stretching corner-to-corner.

  Two soldiers, a young man and woman, both in green camo pants and brown t-shirts, boarded the aircraft as soon as the hatch opened. They stopped short when they saw the tree kangaroos. As they stared, a constant roar of innumerable explosions could be heard in the distance.

  “Don’t even ask,” Northcott barked at them. “I couldn’t explain it if I wanted to. We’re on a tight mission schedule. Let General Vickars know you’ve cleared the aircraft and he can come to us, or I can go to him. But it’s got to be now.”

  “Yes, sir,” they both said. They gazed around the cabin. The woman said, “I’m pretty sure the General’s going to want to see this, sir.”

  The soldiers went back out the hatch. A minute later they returned with the general behind them. He appeared to be about sixty, with a bald head, bushy brows, and intense eyes. He was dressed exactly the same as the younger man and woman, his brown t-shirt showing fresh sweat at the neck and armpits. Apparently he did his share of the work. Or perhaps his appearance could be explained by the stress and chaos of the current outbreak situation.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” he said, duplicating Richards’s reaction to the sight. The general scanned the cabin, pausing his gaze when he saw Bobby, and then pausing again when he saw Quentin and Lindsey. When he finally noticed Addison and the Lamotelokhai, he studied them for a full five seconds. Quentin got the impression the general was a man who didn’t miss details, and that he was quickly forming his own opinion of the scenario.

  “General Vickars,” Northcott said, “I believe there’s a good chance we can be of some assistance in your efforts here. The Lamotelokhai created this aircraft, and it is here with us. It claims it may have the capability to stop the outbreak. Requesting permission to cross your front line of defense.”

  The general continued scanning the cabin. He seemed to notice Northcott’s mbolop, which was sitting between the colonel’s feet. He then looked at each person in turn, each time lingering on a particular tree kangaroo in close proximity.

  Finally he said, “I’m willing to try anything at this point, Colonel. We’ve lost the island. Three point five million souls. Thirty-five hundred square miles of US territory. We’re currently barraging the perimeter in an attempt to prevent the outbreak from spreading via aquatic organisms. No idea if it’s working. A three-hundred-mile perimeter, depleting available ordnance at a staggering rate. We can’t sustain it for more than a few more hours, maybe till the sun goes down, in spite of assistance from every goddamn ally we have. If the outbreak doesn’t fizzle out by then…. ” He didn’t finish, but the implication was clear.

  “Then we’d like to cross the defense barrier immediately,” Northcott said.

  “Very well. Your civilians can stay here aboard the Spearhead.”

  Colonel Northcott glanced at Quentin and then shook his head. “We’ve already discussed this. There’s not a soul on this aircraft who wishes to sit this mission out. Since I have no expertise with the Lamotelokhai, and all of these civilians do, I’m inclined to allow it.”

  Vickars looked around the cabin yet again. He spoke to Richards. “I’m not even asking how you got here.” Apparently Richards had a reputation.

  Richards said, “I’m here because I need to be a part of this. Clock’s ticking, General.”

  Vickars sighed. He walked to where the two Addisons were sitting, stepping carefully to avoid tree kangaroos. He looked from one of them to the other. “I assume one of you is the Lamotelokhai?”

  “Yes,” the Lamotelokhai said.

  He looked directly at it. “Everyone assumes you’re what started this outbreak. Is that true?”

  “Yes.”

  Vickars frowned. “Are you trying to wipe out the human race?”

  “No. The outbreak started because some of your kind attempted to learn how my parts function. They separated my parts into subgroups, which is something I do not
recommend doing. You might say they voided my warranty.” The Lamotelokhai smiled, attempting humor at a staggeringly inappropriate time.

  Vickars appeared unfazed. “Can you stop the outbreak?”

  “I cannot know with certainty. Bobby has asked me to try, so I will. It is likely that with every passing minute, the probability of success diminishes.”

  The general gazed at him for a few more seconds. “Then you should go.” Vickars turned to go, but then he seemed to think of something else, and he turned back to the Lamotelokhai. “Please do what you can. The human race is worth saving. Consider that if you are able to help us survive, we may someday achieve greatness, perhaps like the race of beings who created you.”

  The Lamotelokhai didn’t reply, but even from where Quentin stood, he could see its eyes change from blue to fire-yellow. It was contemplating the general’s words.

  Vickars stepped to the hatch. “Colonel, we can’t let up on our barrage, but you and your friends may fly over the defense barrier.”

  The Puerto Rican landscape was devastated. Few structures remained standing, and very little forest remained unburned. All this destruction had been a desperate attempt to stop something terrifying. It was a testament to what humans were capable of when backed into a corner—when threatened with extinction.

  Everyone in the aircraft was glued to a window, silently digesting the stark truth of what they were seeing below. Plato pressed his snout against Quentin’s ankle repeatedly. The creature was trying to offer him comfort in the form of a lump of its tissue. But at this moment Quentin was reluctant to allow chemical dilution of his anguish and shock. He was starting to realize that human-mbolop symbiosis had a learning curve, and he was teaching himself to set limits on his reliance on minute-by-minute assistance with every emotion.

  “The bombing isn’t killing them all,” Bobby said. He was beside Quentin, and he pointed out toward the horizon. In the distance was a flock of long-winged birds, rising and dropping haphazardly as they flew over rising columns of heat from fires that were still raging.

  “I need a destination,” Captain Kirk said over his shoulder.

  Quentin pulled himself away from the window and he followed Bobby, Ashley, and the Lamotelokhai to the cockpit.

  The Lamotelokhai said, “My best opportunity to stop the transformations will be from the location where the transformations began.”

  Ashley said, “One of Helmich’s people told us the compound was four miles east of Salinas, whatever Salinas is.”

  “GPS, location of Salinas,” Captain Kirk said. An aerial photo map on the instrument panel zoomed in on a cluster of streets and structures. Kirk said, “Four miles east of location.” The map shifted, showing a coastal area with agricultural fields and mangrove shores. The aerial photos showed lush, green vegetation and intact structures, nothing like the barren wasteland Quentin had just seen through the window.

  Bobby leaned in closer and pushed the image around with his finger. “That’s it right there. It looks like they were just starting to build the compound when this picture was taken, but I’m positive that’s it.”

  “Redirect to new location,” Kirk said. The plane turned smoothly, as if it knew people were standing up in the cabin, and then it accelerated. Kirk said, “We’ll be there in three minutes.”

  Quentin turned to the Lamotelokhai. “So how do we do this?”

  It was still staring at the map as it spoke. “When we arrive at the location, I will go to the surface and determine the best available strategy for stopping the transformations. There will be nothing else you need to do.”

  Quentin was almost too afraid to ask, “What are the chances for success?”

  Its eyes changed color briefly. “I cannot know. Based upon words I have heard spoken in this aircraft, the transformations may have spread over an area of at least thirty-five hundred square miles. Perhaps more if the transformations have spread into the surrounding water, which is likely. And it is uncertain whether the transformations have spread beyond the perimeter defense barriers described by General Vickars. And it is uncertain whether the limited ordnance General Vickars described will be depleted before my selected strategy can be carried out. And it is uncertain—”

  “Okay.” Quentin held up a hand. “I get it.”

  The aircraft came to a stop. Captain Kirk touched a few controls and then got up. “We’re here.”

  They all went to the windows to look out. Like every other place on the island they’d seen so far, the landscape below was destroyed—a blackened, cratered desert.

  “There’s the compound,” Bobby said. “What’s left of it anyway.”

  Bobby was on the other side of the cabin, so Quentin crossed over and looked. What he saw below was not the massive compound Bobby and Ashley had described. Instead, it was a hellish, raging inferno in the general shape of a circle. Spires of flame emerged and receded, one after another, and multiple shades of yellow and orange shifted and squirmed over every surface almost like living creatures. It reminded Quentin of those time-lapse videos of the surface of the sun. The intensity of it was almost beautiful.

  “What was that place made of?” Quentin asked, mostly thinking out loud.

  “It was just painted concrete,” Bobby replied. “But they did set off some kind of bomb that was supposed to cook the place for at least a week. Maybe whatever was in the bomb is what’s burning.” After several more seconds of staring, he said, “Peter and Robert died in there.”

  Quentin pulled back from the window and put his hand on Bobby’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get this started.”

  Kirk brought the aircraft closer to the ground, perhaps a quarter of a mile, and positioned it over an open area on the south side of the burning compound. The breeze blowing north from the coast was pushing the rising heat inland, so when he opened the hatch the air was only slightly warm.

  The Lamotelokhai walked to the open hatch and gazed at the ground below. Everyone else gathered behind it. Quentin knew the thing wasn't his son, but the resemblance was powerful, and he felt an instinctive desire to grab the boy to prevent him from falling out.

  The Lamotelokhai turned from the hatch to face them. “I will go to the surface. I will then evaluate options for initiating a process that may stop the transformations. I wish to inform you that the options I am most likely to choose will result in significant depletion of my parts. As some of you know, my parts must exist together in sufficient quantity to allow my consciousness to function, and it can take some time to regenerate depleted parts. It is possible my parts will be depleted below the quantity needed for my consciousness to function, perhaps even below the ability of remaining parts to generate new parts. If that happens, be cautious of the remaining parts. In fact, I recommend destroying them, thus avoiding another incident such as this one.”

  Bobby stepped closer to the Lamotelokhai and the open hatch. “You mean trying to fix this will kill you?”

  “I am not alive, Bobby.”

  “To me you are! Can we use the backup data packets again if we need to?”

  “I removed those data packets from each of you to reconstruct my stored data and consciousness. They are no longer within you.”

  Without saying another word, the Lamotelokhai turned its back to them, stepped through the hatch, and fell.

  For a moment everyone just stared through the open hatch at the rising smoke and wavering layers of heat beyond. Bobby rushed forward and leaned out. Quentin stepped to his side and grabbed his arm—just in case he leaned out too far. By the time he looked down, the Lamotelokhai was already a tiny speck on the ground, walking across a field of weeds that had not yet burned. It was moving toward the flaming compound, but then it stopped, inspecting something on the ground. A large creature of some kind was crossing a corner of the field to the south, but it either didn’t see the Lamotelokhai or didn’t care.

  “What are those things?” Ashley asked, pointing out the hatch. “They’re coming this way.”
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  Quentin followed her gaze. A flock of about twenty large birds was approaching. He squinted at them as they got closer. The birds had long, spoon-like bills, and for a moment he thought they were pelicans. Then he realized they were much larger than pelicans, with wings of bare skin rather than feathers. They were flying reptiles.

  “Quentin?” Lindsey said.

  They were approaching at full speed, and they weren’t showing any signs of veering away from the aircraft.

  “You guys should get back from the door!” Ashley said as she retreated back into the cabin.

  Quentin pulled Bobby’s arm, and they moved back a few steps. The creatures continued advancing at full speed, and suddenly they smashed into the aircraft’s side. One of them shot right through the open hatch, with two more following just behind it. The reptiles plowed into the shocked onlookers, hitting Bobby first and knocking him over on top of Quentin.

  Suddenly, all Quentin could hear were panicked human cries and bird-like shrieks. One of the creatures clamped down on Bobby’s ankle. While fighting his way back to his feet, Quentin glimpsed inch-long teeth tearing into Bobby’s flesh. The creature flapped its wings, pushing itself back toward the hatch and dragging Bobby with it.

  Quentin lunged forward and caught Bobby’s floundering hand.

  Ashley let out an inhuman scream as she charged the reptile-bird and started swinging at it with her fists.

  Another of the creatures slammed into the hatch, its body coming halfway inside. It grabbed Bobby’s other leg in its toothed bill and started pulling.

  Bobby’s hand slipped from Quentin’s grip. Ashley took another swing, but her fist found only air. The two birds were out of the aircraft, and Quentin watched Bobby slip over the lip of the hatch and disappear.

  He dove for the hatch and barely stopped himself from tumbling out. Bobby was already hundreds of feet below, falling fast. The two reptile-birds still hadn’t let go. Their wings flapped furiously, but it was a losing battle—Bobby was too heavy for them. Quentin watched in horror as their efforts forced them north over the burning compound. Suddenly the creatures seemed to realize they were about to burn up, and they let go.