by B. V. Larson
“Let’s watch a moment longer,” I suggested, and I let it play again.
Toby rushed out of the frame. We waited. About eight seconds passed without anything interesting happening.
“Well then,” Fillmore began. “If we’ve wasted enough time, perhaps we can get back to—”
“Hold on,” I said. “Notice the power readings on the instruments? They just fluctuated.”
“The field-generator is still being fine-tuned,” Fillmore snapped. “That’s perfectly normal.”
“No it isn’t,” the bald guy commented.
Fillmore had been about to berate him when something else moved. Something else darkened the hatchway. A shape climbed up and stood there, in plain sight.
It was odd, seeing this thing for the first time. The vids in and around Adams’ office had captured nothing like this. Perhaps, in the ship, it wasn’t so easy to cover their tracks.
The figure did not advance. Where Toby had looked small, this thing appeared larger, and it was lanky rather than skinny. Most interesting to me was the fact it was clearly wearing some kind of simple garment.
“A robe…” I said aloud, remembering what Toby had described.
I paused and zoomed in on it, but it was too dark in the hatchway. There wasn’t much more detail. I saw a triangular line, however—a slit-like mouth?
“That could be anyone,” Fillmore snorted uncertainly.
“Yeah,” the bald guy said. “It could be you, right?”
Fillmore glowered at him. “You’re not being helpful, Dr. Gevan.”
“At least as helpful as you are,” the old man replied.
They were about to go at it when Hughes intervened.
“Well, we’ve seen it. Two times now, something has entered this lab complex without authorization.”
“At least two times,” I said. “It could have been thirty times. We’ve only got evidence for these two incidents, but there may have been many more. Let’s not forget, we’re not able to rule out the missing girl from the supply team as another incident.”
She bit her lower lip for a moment. “You think she might have been…? I hadn’t considered…”
“When a body turns up, previously missing persons are automatically moved into a new category.”
“I see…” Hughes said, her eyes staring at the image of the alien which was frozen on the table top in our midst. “How can we stop them?”
I shrugged thoughtfully. “We could set up a trap. My first goal would be to capture or kill one.”
“Excuse me,” Fillmore interrupted, “but has everyone here just gone mad? We’re all talking around the situation, but we’re all thinking the same thing. No matter how unlikely, you’re saying Earth’s Sphere has been compromised.”
They all looked reluctant to agree, but no one argued directly.
“It’s simply not possible,” he said. “Earth is inside an impenetrable bubble. We’ve been trapped here for—for centuries at least. How could any alien get to Earth from an outside world?”
Dr. Gevan cleared his throat and leaned forward. He didn’t look like a healthy man, he was rather dried-up and jaundiced-looking, but he seemed to be honestly trying to get to the truth.
“We know there are countless star systems out there,” he said. “The existence of the Sphere englobing our local sun and planets proves that someone with technology beyond our own must have set it up. I mean, doesn’t the physical imposition of a fence indicate there must be a builder somewhere nearby?”
Fillmore shook his head emphatically. “Such a simplistic view,” he said. “We’ve argued about this for years, and honestly I doubted we’d ever learn the truth. But now, we stand on the edge of it. The Sphere itself is real. No ships, no drones, nothing artificial built here on Earth has ever been able to get much past Pluto into the Oort cloud before vanishing. Given that reality, how could anyone get in?”
Gevan lifted a finger and pointed it at Fillmore. “It’s you who is making ungrounded suppositions. First off, what if the builders have put in a gate somewhere we can’t understand? Secondly, just because the Sphere keeps us in doesn’t prove it also keeps others out.”
“Who would come here to investigate us knowing that they could never escape? If the barrier is passable at all it must be two-way.”
“Who are we to judge the minds of aliens?” Gevan asked waving his arms in a broad gesture. Both men were becoming agitated. “The fact is they’re here, that much is clear. What we need to do now is figure out what they want, and how we can stop them from getting it.”
Colonel Emily Hughes had stayed quiet, but she finally spoke up. “Dr. Adams had an alien artifact inscribed with a rune in his office.”
Several people gasped.
“The perspective seems to be from the point of view of Earth,” she continued, “it shows the constellation of Draconis.”
“Personal possession of a rune manufactured by aliens?” Fillmore exclaimed. “That’s crazy! It should be illegal. A felony, even! No one—not even science people on this project—should secretly own alien artifacts!”
“I didn’t say it was his personal possession,” Hughes said. “I simply said he had it in his office.”
There was a brief, stunned silence. So the colonel was aware of Adams’ little secret too. I leaned back a little and let her take the lead. The show was shaping up nicely.
“You knew about this?” Fillmore demanded.
“Think about it, Sean. Our project brings unprecedented technology to the table. Spacecraft will now be capable of traveling over a vastly longer range—our device is untested, it’s impact on the future unknowable.”
“It’s a dangerous precedent…” Fillmore muttered.
“So…” Hughes continued, “yes, I looked the other way. Bill has been working on targeting—on how we can find a weak point in our Sphere. He would never say how he got his hands on this item, but he was studying the rune as a cypher which points to a hidden pathway. It’s long been theorized that—”
Fillmore couldn’t contain himself. He rolled his eyes and interrupted again. I was surprised Hughes put up with the old goat. He must be some kind of a genius to get away with this behavior.
“Yes, yes,” he said, “that old nonsense about it being some kind of a treasure map. I’ve heard it for years, and I don’t buy it. The cause for all this violence is suddenly clear to me.”
“How so?” Gevan asked him.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. “The rune is of religious significance to whoever made it. That’s what I’ve always maintained. As a navigational beacon, it’s pointless. All it does is show you a local confluence of stars. But as a work of art, or an icon of sociological impact—”
“A religious symbol?” I asked. “Like a cross worn around one’s neck?”
“Exactly.”
“Well…” I said thoughtfully, “Toby did describe the figure as being robed and slow-moving. It didn’t lunge at him like a feral animal. You’re claiming these creatures are coming here to retrieve their property?”
“It’s a theory, nothing more,” he said. “But it fits the facts.”
“No it doesn’t,” Gevan said. “They killed Adams, and they didn’t bother to take the rune.”
“Maybe they couldn’t find it!” Fillmore shot back.
“Then how did they zero in on his office? How did they even know to start looking there? They seem too sophisticated for such a basic error. You’re theory is full of holes.”
Fillmore sputtered in rage. Nothing seemed to make a scientist madder than suggesting he hadn’t done his homework.
“We’re at the earliest stages of this,” he said angrily. “We’ll know more soon—and you’ll see I’m right.”
Gevan shrugged and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Doesn’t hold up…”
These words made Fillmore’s face redden. I thought the two might come to blows—they probably would have if they’d been fit enough to fight, but Fillmor
e was soft and Gevan was old as hell.
“Gentlemen,” Colonel Hughes said. “I thank you both for your insights. It will take time to figure all this out, but I’m sure we will be successful in the end.”
I tossed my rolled-up screen out onto the tabletop, grabbing their attention again.
“We don’t have that kind of time,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Because there will be more attacks, and they will be more serious in nature. We have to take action to protect everyone here.”
“How do you know there will be more attacks?” Fillmore asked suspiciously.
“Because while you’ve been talking, I’ve been searching the vid logs. Using the key-frames identifying the creature silhouetted in the engine bay, I’ve constructed and executed a query on the database.”
They were all frowning at me, listening.
“And?” Colonel Hughes prompted.
“They’ve been here several times. The frequency of their visits is increasing. Only recently have they begun to reveal themselves—they’re becoming bolder now. They killed Adams, and I must assume until I know different that they were thwarted in their attempt to kill Toby. Whatever they’re after, there’s no reason for them to stop now.”
Even after I’d shown them several more incidents involving shadowy figures haunting hallways, offices and labs all over the Arlington complex, the group wasn’t entirely cooperative.
Like the overly-educated people they were, they’d wanted to talk the problem to death. They’d wanted to argue about who was right, and what should have been done to prevent the problem.
Colonel Hughes adjourned the meeting at last, but she asked me to stay behind. What followed was predictable: she wanted a plan of action, and she wanted it now.
Chapter 7
Colonel Emily Hughes called her key personnel together again—this time in the construction bay. There was some grumbling, however. Theoretical researchers aren’t accustomed to being herded about like cattle. There were also some especially cranky people in the group.
“Oh please,” Dr. Gevan complained. As he spoke the wattles on his neck wagged. “Is all this nonsense really necessary? Can’t we settle on a plan of action in the conference room?”
“Dr. Gevan,” I agreed, “you’re quite right. It’s time for a plan.”
I began to pace the floor to get everyone’s attention.
“It’s getting late people,” I said, “but instead of going home to your cozy beds, it’s time to get back to work. Make a fresh batch of coffee—we’re going to have to pull all-nighters until we get this field-generating engine built, installed and launched.”
A muttering fervor erupted across the chamber.
“Settle down,” Hughes started. “We’re top-notch professionals here, and we all know how to meet a tight deadline. As far as security issues go, I have a call in to the Ministry of Control, and proper military support will be here soon.”
This caused me to look up in surprise. Another security team was incoming? And she hadn’t discussed it with me first—or even informed me? Clearly, I wasn’t filling her with confidence.
After a moment’s reflection, I decided I couldn’t blame her. She didn’t know me, and so far, she didn’t really like me. She had a murder on her hands, and she had to react to that.
Inwardly, I sighed. I was just going to have to get used to working with whomever the Ministry sent out.
“Chief Gray?” Hughes asked me. “What do we do next?”
Pulling at my chin, I took a deep breath before addressing them.
I began to pace. “First off, I’m told that this team is made up of Earth’s best technical minds.”
The room quieted, and they seemed to like this opening statement. I pointed at individuals as I continued to pace. “But… this project has an enemy. The situation warrants that we move into high gear. You’ll have to work as fast as possible, and I need you to be watching your own backs too.”
Colonel Hughes chimed in after that. “The Ministry of Control has authorized me to convert this project into an accelerated program.”
“And what the hell does that mean to us?” someone demanded in the back row.
“It means we’re going to move the entire project into this facility,” she said. “It’s the most secure space we have.” She swept her hand around to indicate the construction bay.
“Really… the entire project?” Dr. Fillmore complained pushing his way to the front of the group.
“Yes, Sean—the entire project,” Hughes told him. “The construction bay in the basement vault has everything we’ll need to hunker down and finish up. There is already a cafeteria and locker room and more than enough open space to set up stations for everyone’s work if we squeeze a bit. Sleeping arrangements will be a little trickier since we’re trying to avoid isolating anyone without some sort of watch on duty. Most importantly, we can keep an eye out for intruders if we go at it this way.”
The grumbling got louder, so Hughes began to shout.
“For most of you, this will probably require adjustments,” she continued. “We will be breaking the group down into small teams of two or three. Each team will answer to a team leader. Those team leaders are Dr. Brandt, Dr. Gevan and Dr. Fillmore—who in turn will answer to me. Chief Gray will operate as an independent agent at my side.”
“Who put him in charge?” Fillmore demanded indignantly.
“I did,” Hughes said loudly. “This is a security problem. Our entire project is impacted, and our new security chief has laid out a plan for us to continue with increased safety. If any of you have serious objections you can turn around and go home… but you’ll leave your jobs behind.”
No one did more than mutter and shuffle about uncertainly.
“Good,” Hughes continued. “As soon as the teams have been assigned you will each put together a list of the essential equipment you’ll need to finish the project. Please be brutally pragmatic about what ends up on that list. We need to begin organizing this within the hour.”
Colonel Hughes began assembling teams as I walked over and stood pondering the state of the nearly finished engine. It sat bolted down to a massive automated loader. I recognized it as the same unit Toby had been messing with earlier. I hoped it still functioned after his meddling.
The control bank on the loader was dark except for a lone green indicator which displayed a full battery charge. The loader would be powered up to deliver its weighty cargo topside once the device was fully built and ready to move.
It was going to be an ordeal getting a delicate machine up into orbit intact. There would be plenty of opportunities for an enterprising enemy to strike. Even when safely aboard a transport, it would probably still be a fair amount of work to install it. The more I thought about it the more anxious I became to get started. There was much to do.
At that moment, something struck me. Before I even knew the reason, I flinched and felt a shot of adrenaline.
Someone was attacking me. I automatically took cover behind a row of inert machines nearby. I could feel a stinging blow over my left eye, and a scrap of metal clattered on the deck. Blood began to run from a deep gash. I spotted the offending object near my feet. It was some kind of graduated, germanium shim—heavy and sharp like a knife on one edge.
Evidently, there was an opinionated protester in the room. I slapped a hand to my wound to hold pressure there and surveyed the crowd. Everyone in my field of view was looking preoccupied. Nobody was interested in confessing. Everything seemed to be in place.
If that freaky punk did this… Already, I was wondering if this might turn out to be one of those loose ends I was supposed to deal with.
All in good time, I thought. I grabbed the shim with my left hand and made my way to get some first aid.
The mess hall seemed the most likely place to find a kit. I watched over the construction bay as I headed there. Still no volunteers taking credit—maybe the monster did this.
&
nbsp; Dr. Brandt was sitting at the table nearest the door, compiling her team’s list as they discussed details. I stepped into the doorway while blood dripped off my chin and elbow.
“Chief Gray, Are you all right?” Dr. Brandt asked, standing abruptly.
“Yeah, yeah—just an accident with a foreign object. I’ll be fine with a bit of smart-mesh to keep the wound closed.”
“You sure that’s enough? You might want to lie down for a while.”
“I’m not much for down-time once I’m on the job. Just close the wound for me—that’ll do fine.”
“If you say so...” She retrieved a medical kit and went to work.
“Would you know where this might have come from, Dr. Brandt?” I produced the shim that had cut my head open.
“Hmm,” her lips twisted in thought. “That’s what caused this?”
“Yes, someone threw it.”
“This is pretty common stock in the bay. Anyone could have grabbed it from any number of places. I use them to align components that are sensitive to molecular charges in certain elements.”
She let the med kit go through the auto-phase, sterilizing the mesh and preparing it for application. After 90 seconds, all three blinking LEDs glowed steadily indicating that the patch was ready.
After mopping away the blood, Brandt applied synthetic sanitizers which produced bright, orange foam. Then she applied the smart-mesh over the wound and it buried itself into my skin. It stung like hell, but the bleeding stopped, and I was good to go afterwards.
“All set, Chief,” Dr. Brandt said. “I can get you a cold compress if you’d like.”
“No thanks, I’ll be fine.”
“Since you’re so eager, I have a short list of essentials ready to chase down if you’re looking for a job to do.”
“Well… I’m awfully busy at the moment.”
“You’ve got ghosts to chase?”
“Something like that.”
“All right, Chief,” she said and saluted me with pretended severity. “Do you really think someone meant to hit you with that chunk of steel? I can’t believe anyone from this group would do that.”