“Rats,” Yuri said, leaning close to inspect a cage. “These are the ones, aren’t they? They have that bulge behind the eyes you talked about. Little bug brains.”
Inside the cage, the rat eyed Yuri.
“They say, Ms. Fontanova, that next to humans, the rat is the most successful mammal on this planet.”
“My name is Katrina, Yuri. Please call me that.”
“Okay... Katrina. What comes next?”
“First we inspect the equipment, to find out the purpose of the lab. Then we leave with a specimen. You can give it directly to Dr. Li for examination.”
“Minimizing the loss of classified information to third parties. How noble of you.”
“I want your trust.”
Yuri nodded, solemn-faced. “Right.”
She smiled weakly. “This computer is running, but the display unit is off. May I turn it on?”
“Sure. If you don’t think it’ll blow up.”
She pressed the ON button. Within a second, a display appeared—an image of Yuri viewed from inside the rat cage.
“You’re on camera,” she said.
Yuri turned, saw himself on the monitor and backed away from the rat. His image shrank with distance. “Looks like a VCR hook-up. I don’t want this visit recorded. Can you turn the camera off?”
“Right,” she said. “But I don’t see it over here. You’ll need to trace the wires.”
Yuri looked into the cage. “Nothing in here. But look at the image on the monitor—it’s panning. We should be able to see camera motion, or hear the servos.”
Katrina walked quickly to the cage, knelt beside it and looked in. “Back away,” she said.
Yuri shrugged, then stepped back. The rat blinked, and his shrinking image disappeared for an instant.
“It’s the animal,” Katrina whispered. “The monitor sees what the animal sees.”
When the rat cocked its head and turned its body, Katrina’s image replaced Yuri’s.
“Think of the implications,” Katrina said.
Yuri adjusted the nearby monitor. “There’s a color shift and maybe an acuity shift.”
Katrina nodded. “It’s not quite the same as human eyes.”
“They can crawl through small spaces, see, listen, smell and feel,” Yuri said. “If someone discovers the rat, they just blame it on bad housecleaning. The rats are expendable.”
Katrina tried another button. The monitor’s speaker issued a sharp noise—a rat gnawing a food pellet. It was a grating sound, like teeth grinding bone.
“It’s hungry,” she said.
* * *
Kostiya Baskakov sorted through a jungle of flowers, finally settling on red roses. “I will take these,” he said, pointing. “Half a dozen.”
The clerk in the flower shop opened the glass-doored refrigerator. She selected six good specimens, sprayed them with water, then put them in a box.
“You’ll be wanting a card, too?”
“He nodded, then picked a large, ornate, heart-shaped card.”
“That’s a Valentine card.”
“It’s okay. I’ll take it. It is... an affair of the heart.”
After paying, Kostiya stepped gingerly out on the street. He headed for the Metro, playing the mating simulation in his mind:
She would answer the door and be surprised.
He would ask to come in.
She would at first say no.
He would offer the flowers.
She would be delighted and change her mind.
They would spend an evening together. He would console her. With luck, he would spend the night.
Kostiya had developed an elaborate set of contingency plans of theif-then variety. Like the Soviet putsch, the plans would all fail to predict reality’s vector.
* * *
As Deke pulled out of his parking space in Rachel, he saw a blue, unmarked van on the opposite side of the street. He slowed to watch it through the rear-view mirror. As he approached a corner, the van started its engine and pulled out.
He turned right. After a few moments, the blue van turned in the same direction.
Deke stopped at a gas station to make a phone call. As he dialed the number, the van rolled past his position and parked on the side of the street. It waited for him. Someone watched.
Maybe Old Roy Robbins can help engineer an escape, he thought.
The phone rang three times, then picked up. “Haloo,” a voice answered.
“Roy? This is Deke. How’re you, old buddy?”
“Old buddy yourself.”
He heard Roy spit on the other end of the phone. It was just Roy’s way. “This may sound crazy here in Rachel, but there’s a car following me and I’m afraid.”
He could hear the rancher’s snicker.
“Nothin’ sounds crazy comin’ from you,” Roy said. “Whattya want me to do?”
“Just open the gate to your property. That’s all. Let me drive through, then close it.”
“I can do that. Come on over. Got nuthin’ better to do than save paranoid nuts like you.”
“Thanks,” Deke said. “You’re a pal, even if you are out to get me.”
* * *
Richard Chandra was on the phone in his laboratory at Groom—a STU-III secure telephone. He sat at a small desk, handset wedged between his shoulder and ear, toying with a large glass jar. As he tilted the jar from side to side, the contents slid back and forth in a formaldehyde brew. The object looked like the head of a man-sized bug. It had large, wrap-around black eyes protruding from gray flesh. Sections of the skull had been removed.
“Yes, Mister Director,” he said. “Termination with extreme prejudice—that’s the option. I just wanted to make sure you agreed. Right. We will. Yes, Sir. Goodbye.”
Chandra smiled, hung up, then walked to a metal workbench at the center of the lab. There was a rat cage on the bench. He put down the large jar next to the cage, then opened the cage door.
“Come to Papa,” he said.
The rat did not move.
Chandra was puzzled. This had never happened before. He reached into the cage.
The animal hissed, then bit him viciously.
“Jeez!” he yelled, retracting a bleeding hand. He slammed the cage door shut, then washed his hand in the lab sink. The bite was deep. He held a paper towel as a compress, then walked to a computer display console. He switched it on. It read:
CRAY 4 SYSTEM
Ganymede Link Status:
LINK STATUS ACCESSED BY
G15727 closed
G15728 closed
G15729 closed
G15729 open ?
G15730 closed
G15731 closed
G15732 closed
[More]
“What?” he asked, aloud.
He frantically dialed the phone. A voice picked up on the other end.
“Systems.”
“Gene? This is Richard. I’m on my way down to talk to you.”
“Okay.”
“Take a look at your link status matrix—link G15729. We’ve either got a serious glitch or someone’s penetrated the system.”
“Penetration? Through this security?”
“Yeah. Be right there.”
He hung up the phone, switched off the display console then quickly exited the lab via the hangar-side door.
He sprinted down steps onto the hangar floor, still holding the compress on his hand, paying little attention to the cordoned-off area near the lab entrance. It was an area he passed by regularly.
Inside were the remains of a craft. The pieces were organized and meticulously labeled as in an aircraft crash investigation, but the craft was not of this earth.
Chandra strode the length of the vast hangar, past a half dozen alien craft. All had crashed. Technicians and crews scooted around one of them like busy ants, performing analysis on the debris.
He glanced at his watch. He would have to get things going quickly with Gene. He had another field test
in a few minutes.
* * *
Kostiya Baskakov knocked on the apartment door, roses in hand. His priority was to make peace with Katrina, and try one more time to convince her that a Ukrainian career path could be every bit as satisfying as a Russian career path. He knew that he would have to deal with all of the logical arguments. She had a very logical mind—sometimes too logical. Kostiya was more a man of passion.
He knocked again—this time, louder and with more conviction.Maybe she’s not home. Or playing hard-to-get.
He tried the knob. It was unlocked.
He pushed the door open slowly, peering into the dark apartment. “Katrina?” he whispered.
There was a rustling inside, but no answer.
He smiled and went in.
* * *
Truth bridged the fault lines dividing belief and disbelief; horror and fascination; humility and hubris. Katrina relayed to Anderson the news of Chandra’s lab. He told Li, who hastily convened a meeting in her conference room. They were all there for a free-wheeling session—Li, Anderson, Jafri, Katrina and Yuri. The implications were staggering.
“They killed visitors,” Jafri said. “They couldn’t control them.”
“The alien devices combine a number of technologies to achieve surprising new capabilities,” Li explained. “The construction of biochemical blueprints, the modification of the blueprint, the control of neural growth patterns, the interface with a quantum mechanical communications link—it is truly an amazing device.”
“Maybe they needed to accelerate evolution by artificial means,” Jafri suggested.
“They needed to solve certain problems posed by interstellar travel,” Li added. “They plant the devices in developing embryos. The devices alter the biological blueprint of individuals and provide a collective neural interface. Their bodies are a product of both biological and technological evolution.”
Katrina pinched her fingers in an explicative gesture. “Human intelligence, reduced to its essentials, is synonymous with communications. Intelligence is the ability to transmit more complex information from one brain to another. What if—”
“They can communicate with each other at interstellar distances,” Anderson interjected. “Maybe they all plug into a communal network. A network of minds.”
“Chandra exploits this technology to ‘wire’ animals,” Yuri said. “He uses them as both information probes and weapons.”
“Something was born at Groom 26 years ago,” Jafri said. “Something very special. Deke got that from the LANL files.”
Yuri agreed. “I got the same thing from an intercepted letter. I’ve been thinking about it. Twenty-six years—that’s Chandra’s age.”
“I am troubled by one possibility,” Katrina said. “Given the capabilities of this technology, do you think Chandra detected us when we entered his lab?”
“I need to find Chandra,” Yuri said. “Before he finds us.”
* * *
Katrina stepped out of the elevator onto her floor. She knew exactly what had to be done. First—call Gallagan. This thing had all sorts of political ramifications. Second—an escape plan. If someone was tuned in to the quantum-linked devices, they would know she had been in the lab. They would target her again. Maybe Yuri, too.
She halted in front of the door and dug through her briefcase for the key. Her hands trembled. The key ring seemed to dance from her hand. It dropped to the floor. She picked it up and put the key in the lock. It was already open!
She stumbled backward, away from the door, panicked, then raced back to the elevator.Maybe, just maybe it was only another ‘cleaning anomaly ,’ she thought, riding the elevator down. She dialed from the lobby phone.
“Hello?”
Katrina puffed, frightened and out of breath, but tried to control her voice.Actnatural !
“Jane! This is Katrina. Today was cleaning day, right?”
The voice on the phone seemed puzzled. “Yeah. I did the bathrooms and the kitchen like you said. But not the work room. You told me to leave that. Is there a problem?”
“Did you leave the door unlocked again?”
“Oh, my God! Did I do that again? Listen, I’m very sorry. What can I say? I had a lot on my mind, you know? I really apologize!”
“It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Katrina laughed, even though it sounded out of place.
“Just don’t let it happen again. Hmm? Bye.” She released pent up breath and emotion, letting the handset slide easily back into the cradle.Getagrip !
As Katrina rode the elevator back up, she felt relieved—and terribly paranoid.Of course , she thought,they say that true paranoia is when you know what is actually going on around you .
She tried the door again. It opened an inch, then stuck. Something lodged against it on the other side. She pushed hard. The door opened.
She saw a body—ripped apart, half skeletonized. There was a valentine card on the floor. Katrina screamed.
* * *
Yuri lay on his bed, eyes closed, clothes on, thinking—about a world and a universe that seemed much smaller than it was yesterday. The phone rang. He fumbled, knocked his holster to the floor, then picked up.
“Hello. Sverdlov.”
“Yuri.” Katrina’s voice was calm, but contained an edge to it—of stress and quiet panic. “I’m in danger. I returned to my apartment after the meeting. The door was open. There was a body on the floor—a friend.”
“Was he—”
The edge in her voice cut to the bone of anger and confusion. “They got him, like Vladimir!”
“I hear you. Talk to me quietly. Tell me the situation.”
A sigh preceded her words. “I phoned my neighbor and asked her to tell the police. I couldn’t get through to Gallagan, so I—”
“You called me. That’s good,” he said. “You can trust me. Where are you now?”
“Shady Grove.”
“Can you meet me at Gallery Place in 45 minutes?”
“Yes.”
He heard teeth chattering on the other end of the phone. “Keep moving. I’ll see you then. Dasvedanya.”
He picked up his gun from the night stand, then stooped to retrieve the holster from the floor. That’s when he saw it—a metal box about the size of a cigarette package, taped to the underside of the table, connected to the phone line.
“Shit!” he murmured.
He checked his gun, holstered it and strapped it on, then threw a duffel bag from the closet onto the bed, filling it with a few clothes, ammo and professional gear. Low on cash, he retrieved an emergency stash of money from an envelope taped behind a picture.
Exiting the apartment building by a side door, he hurried to the street, bag in hand, and maintained cover, waiting by a hedge.
Light from an approaching car illuminated a row of parked vehicles opposite his apartment. A darkly silhouetted figure moved inside one of the cars. Someone watched.
He backed away from the corner of the apartment.Other routes will be safer , he thought.
* * *
Deke pulled onto Roy’s property.
Roy—shirtless, wearing farmer coveralls and cowboy boots—closed the gate behind him, muttering, “Crazy, paranoid bastard!”
“Thanks, Roy. You’re a pal!”
Roy flashed the one-fingered hand salute.
As Deke drove down the private road, he could see the blue van pull up at Roy’s gate. A man in camouflaged battle dress got out. Roy tipped his hat and spit.
Deke put pedal to the metal, rocketing down Roy’s private road on a shortcut to the trailer. As he pulled up, the coast seemed clear. It would be several minutes before Groom Goons arrived.
He threw camping gear, food and Gray into the back of the truck. Remembering an old James Bond trick, he plucked a hair and stuck it to the door with spit. If the hair was gone when he got back, he would know the Goons had been in the Center. Or that the hair had dropped off. Or whatever.
It was dusk when he nea
red the Groom perimeter. He pulled off the Freedom Ridge access road, stopped and brushed tracks.
* * *
Yuri craned his neck, scanning the platform as his Metro train pulled to a stop in Gallery Place. It was late and there were few people at the station. The possibility of disaster consumed him.Where the hell is she ?
The doors rumbled. Yuri stepped out, stood close to the car, and searched the long, man-made cavern for the Russian woman who trusted him with her life. Behind him, the train waited silently, doors open like hungry mouths, waiting to be fed.
Katrina materialized from the shadows, moving from an area below an escalator, faced him for a moment, then walked briskly toward him.
Behind her, on another part of the platform, a man put down a newspaper and paced quickly toward Katrina. It was Chisholm. In one hand, he carried a brown bag.
Yuri walked past Katrina. “Get on the train. Now!”
Chisholm’s eyes fixed on Katrina.
As Yuri approached, Chisholm reached into the bag. Yuri tripped him, kicked the bag from his hand, and watched a pistol skid across the loading area.
Lights on the platform blinked. The train issued aDING-DONG sound, signaling readiness to depart.
Yuri raced to the Metro car and jumped aboard as doors closed with awhump . From a window, he watched Chisholm dash to the dropped weapon.
The train glided forward. Chisholm stood, bracing the gun with both hands.
Yuri grabbed Katrina. “Everyone down!” he shouted.
Bullets shattered glass windows, pierced the thin metal skin of the Metro car and severed electrical wires, plunging the car into partial darkness. The few passengers in the car hit the deck. The train picked up speed, clearing the station.
Yuri crouched on the floor with Katrina. No one was hurt. Three passengers next to them dusted off and got to their feet. They were young, dressed in gang colors and visibly shaken by the gunfire.
The Ganymede Project Page 30