Extinction Series (The Complete Collection)

by James D. Prescott

  They came to a pod in the second row on the far left, the same position held by the incubation chamber with the Plesiadapiformes.

  “There it is,” Gabby said.

  Hazy tendrils of smoke danced inside the pod. Eugene drew closer right as the animal threw itself against the glass and let out a shriek. He recoiled and fell backwards.

  “It’s gone insane,” Dag said.

  “There’s enough room in there if you wanted to join him,” Gabby teased Eugene, who shrugged off the comment.

  The animal was desperate to escape, but none of them were foolish enough to release it from captivity, even if they knew how.

  A set of green holographic symbols shot out from a console next to the pod. The strange alien text rotated before them for less than sixty seconds before the room began to shake and the pod disappeared in a hail of swirling mist.

  “Where’d it go?” Dag asked, shocked.

  Jack raised a solitary finger. “Topside,” he said with certainty.

  “Will someone for the love of God please tell me what’s so special about these plesi-things?” Eugene asked.

  “It’s Plesiadapiformes,” Jack said, still absorbing the enormity of the situation. “A furry squirrel-like mammal with a long bushy tail that spent most of its time in trees.”

  Eugene put his hands on his knees and shook his head in disbelief. “We ran all this way for that?”

  “Not just that,” Jack explained, turning and heading back toward the ramp. “It also happens to be one of man’s earliest ancestors.”

  Chapter 51

  From the outside, Kopan Monastery looked more like a glittering Eastern palace than it did a place of worship. The temple featured five stories of fine, intricate craftsmanship, flanked on both sides by even taller pagoda-style towers and wide terraces. Groups of monks in saffron-colored robes shuffled toward a courtyard where a series of stupas were located. Stupas were large Buddhist shrines commemorating important monks or containing mantras, texts or other sacred relics.

  Mia stopped a young monk to ask him what was happening. He smiled and bowed slightly, but said nothing.

  An older monk spotted them and approached.

  “I’m sorry, but the trapas are forbidden from speaking at the moment.”

  “Trapas?” Tom asked.

  “Student monks.” Clasping his hands together, he began to move away.

  “Wait a moment,” she called after him. “I’m looking for Dr. Lars Van der Berg.”

  “I’m sorry, but the monastery is closed to visitors.” He turned and melted back into the crowd.

  “Lars is sure to stick out like a sore thumb in a place like this,” Tom said, trying to be consoling.

  “Dr. Jansson made it sound like he’d gone off the deep end. How do we know he won’t be locked away somewhere? I say we follow the monks and see if we can’t spot him in the crowd.”

  Sven grunted his approval.

  Tom glanced over at the big guy. “Try not to scare anyone.”

  Matching the monks’ careful pace, they merged into the river of saffron robes that flowed toward the courtyard. Even with the considerable height advantage they enjoyed, they were still having little luck finding anyone who matched Lars’ description.

  Until Sven cupped the back of Mia’s neck with one powerful hand and used the other to point to an older white male in monk’s robes about ten meters away.

  With profuse apologies, they maneuvered through the throngs, working toward someone who looked very much like Dr. Van der Berg. Soon, as more monks joined, the crowd swelled and pushed back, and they lost sight of him. It was like moving through waist-high water.

  “I can’t see him,” Mia called out. She was getting separated from Tom and the others. Then the man appeared again, this time closer to the monastery. He was moving away. Had he seen them? Glancing back, Mia had lost sight of both Tom and Sven.

  She persevered, pushing upstream now, worried if she didn’t get through she might not get another chance. The white figure disappeared into the monastery. If she could only break free from the crowd, she might be able to catch up. Monks both young and old were staring past her, at the ceremony that was about to begin. Feeling a surge of panic, Mia laced her fingers and stuck out her elbows, creating a wedge. Dispensing with all manner of politeness, she charged ahead. Minutes later, she had broken through, finding an open space closer to the temple. At last she could breathe. And, more importantly, she could continue her pursuit of the man she hoped was Lars.

  She followed the outer wall until she arrived before a pair of solid and colorfully decorated oak doors. Her fingers wrapped around the brass handle and she pulled it open. Inside was an enormous and dazzling space that smelled of incense and ancient history. Cherry-colored pillars supported a high-beamed ceiling and a wraparound upper balcony.

  Every square inch was covered in a rich tapestry of vibrant eastern colors. On the floor were prayer mats. Impressive as all those things were, none could compete with the golden statue of Buddha, twenty feet tall and adorned with a beautifully embroidered robe.

  Following what she knew of Buddhist custom, Mia slipped off her shoes and proceeded inside. The prayer room was empty, except for a single figure seated next to one of the pillars.

  As she drew closer, she noticed he was a Caucasian male, his chin lowered in meditation. But he was dressed differently than the person she’d seen entering the temple moments before. Surely Lars wasn’t the only white guy around. In the last few decades, a growing number of westerners, disillusioned with the hectic pace of industrialized society, had begun flocking to the simpler way of life eastern monasteries afforded. Apparently, Lars had been one of them. But whether or not this was him or merely another western pilgrim in search of Nirvana remained to be seen.

  “Dr. Van der Berg?” she whispered.

  A man in his mid-seventies turned his head and regarded her without saying anything.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for Lars…”

  “Lars Van der Berg has passed on,” the man said.

  That old familiar frustration was bubbling up inside her again. “When did he die?” she asked, no longer bothering to hide her despair.

  “The death was rapid and occurred the moment he arrived,” the man explained.

  Mia watched him, unsure.

  “For the path to transcendence means you must relinquish everything you once were.”

  Mia feigned understanding as she noted the tattoos poking out from the collar of his robe. They looked like the faces of Buddhist religious figures along with bits of sacred text.

  “Were you at one time Dr. Lars Van der Berg?” she asked, still wondering if this old guy was high on incense.

  He nodded. “I was, but I am known now as Wangchuk Bhattarai trapa.”

  Mia sat next to him, folding her legs. Outside, the volume of monks beating drums and clanging symbols rose.

  “What’s going on out there?” she asked.

  “A funeral for the head lama, Thubten Zopa Rinpoche,” the man now known as Wangchuk explained.

  Mia removed the research paper Lars had written back in Amsterdam. “I need to talk to you about this,” she said, handing it to him. Wangchuk took the papers and glanced over them amid the growing cacophony of noise from the funeral service in the courtyard. “You wrote about a pattern of symbolic language you observed within human DNA and—”

  He raised his left hand, for a moment resembling the statue of Buddha behind her. “Not only human,” Wangchuk corrected. “The symmetry exists within all creatures.”

  Mia found herself speaking louder against the racket, just to be heard. “Yes, but in your paper you mentioned those symmetries were connected by a single prime number, but you never revealed what that number was.”

  Perhaps resisting the urge to shout, Wangchuk began raising his other hand, this time his right. He was halfway into the action when gunshots rang out, the bulk of it lost in the overall din. The first two
bullets struck Wangchuk’s neck and then his temple, spraying the cherry pillar next to him a deeper color of red. Instinctively, Mia rolled backwards and behind the post, placing it between herself and the shooter.

  Rounds tore chunks from the wooden floor on either side of her. She could see from the way the wood was splintering that the shooter was perched on the upper balcony. Mia felt a surge of fear and adrenaline rush through her body. She was breathing hard, her chest struggling to provide oxygen to her muscles. But more than that, she was trapped like a rat.

  The sound of a magazine hitting the floor signaled an opportunity Mia couldn’t pass up. She bolted from cover and dove behind the next pillar. Ten feet to her right was a set of double doors and her only chance to escape. Undeterred, the shooter remained in place, firing out whenever she peeked at him from around the corner. From the glimpses she was able to steal, she could tell he was a Caucasian male dressed in monk’s robes, the same individual she’d been following earlier. More rounds ricocheted next to her, others thudding into the pillar. It was only a question of time before he repositioned and found the right angle.

  Her senses on high alert, Mia caught the sound of a door opening on the second level. Was the assassin fleeing at last? Then another noise, this one as though two people were in a struggle. She glanced out and saw the gun clatter to the floor as two men engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Relief swept over her with the realization that Tom or Sven had finally come to her rescue. The larger man grabbed the assassin in a chokehold and jerked his body, breaking his neck. When he let go the dead man slid to the floor and out of Mia’s sight.

  Locking eyes with her rescuer, she saw now that it was not Tom or Sven.

  It was Ollie.

  Chapter 52

  By the time Jack got back to the Orb, Commander Hart was on the comms line in a heated conversation.

  “Is that Admiral Stark?” Jack said, struggling to calm his burning lungs. Who needed a gym membership, he thought, when you could scale a dozen ramps on an alien mothership?

  Hart put a hand over his mic. “Ten minutes ago they detected an unidentified object exiting the water and heading for the coast.”

  “Tell him it’s a pod and―”

  “Jack, he’s losing it. You better talk to him.”

  Nodding, Jack told Hart to patch him through. A second later, Jack said, “Rear Admiral Stark?”

  “This is the Secretary of Defense, Ford Myers.”

  Jack inhaled a sharp breath. Had Myers come to personally oversee the operation? If so that meant the situation topside must be worse than he thought.

  “Who am I speaking to?”

  “Dr. Jack Greer, sir. I’m with an element investigating the USO. What you tracked leaving the Gulf contains a biological entity.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.” The secretary’s Virginia twang was growing stronger by the second.

  “No, sir. Originally the specimen was in an incubation chamber and gestated at an incredibly rapid rate. Before we had a chance to remove it, the ship somehow took matters into its own hands and jettisoned it. You need to track where it lands and send a team to bring it back alive.”

  Myers sounded incredulous. “Are you telling me there’s an alien on the loose somewhere on the Peninsula?”

  “Not if you can get your people there quickly.”

  “Mexico’s a sovereign nation, Dr. Greer. They teach you anything about borders at that fancy school you attended? We can’t just go swooping in and―”

  “Pardon my saying, Mr. Secretary, but there isn’t time to argue about this.”

  He grew quiet. “Please tell me you haven’t unleashed some sort of monster.”

  “No, least I don’t believe so. But it may hold answers to questions we’ve been asking for a very long time.”

  Jack felt the seconds slipping away. If they waited any longer, there was no telling where the creature might be.

  “I’ll send them, but if anything goes wrong, it’ll be on you.”

  The line went dead.

  “How dare you withhold information,” Captain Kelly shouted as he clambered through the airlock. Lieutenant Brooks and two other ONI agents were close behind. The agents struggled under the weight of a large duffle bag. The top was unzipped and inside were components clearly scavenged from the bridge.

  The captain tried to make a beeline for Commander Hart, but Jack stepped in his way.

  “I’ve got nothing to say to you. Now move!” Kelly ordered him.

  “Not until you tell me what’s in the bag.”

  “We don’t have to tell you a damned thing,” Kelly said, nudging past him.

  When he saw parts from the bridge, a terrible fear swept over him. Jack recalled Rajesh’s concerns that the ONI was here for Anna. Could some or all of her have been shoved in that duffle bag? Jack went to the master frequency and called out for Rajesh.

  After watching the men load the bag into an empty submersible, he called out again and Rajesh’s voice finally replied.

  “Are you still on the bridge?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah, but―”

  He felt the veins at his temples starting to throb. “Is Anna with you?”

  “She is and she’s safe. Although Captain Kelly and his men gutted half the consoles here. But there’s something else you need to know.”

  Jack waited for it, although somehow a part of him already knew.

  “The countdown clock,” Rajesh said, breathless. “It’s started again.”

  Chapter 53

  The monastery door swung open as Tom and Sven rushed in, guns drawn. At first they eyed the body of the dead monk before they found Mia. She was steadying herself on wobbly legs, staring at the balcony upstairs. A group of monks rushed in, hesitated when they witnessed the chaotic scene, then ran to Lars’ body.

  “We were searching the crowd for you when we heard the shooting,” Tom said.

  Sven swung her around and patted plaster dust off her shoulders and back.

  “I’m fine,” she said, checking the upper level again. It was empty. “He was here,” she told them, not interested in keeping what she had seen a secret.

  “Van der Berg?” Tom asked, not entirely sure who Mia meant.

  She glanced at his body. The monks had laid him on his back and were preparing to carry him away. A pool of blood had collected by his side. “I was speaking to Lars when someone shot him from up there.”

  The two men listened intently.

  “The shooter had me pinned down. Then from out of nowhere, Ollie appeared, knocked the gun out of his hand and killed him.”

  An angry sound emanated from the back of Sven’s throat as the big man turned and took off at a run.

  “Ollie better hope Sven doesn’t find him,” Tom said.

  Mia wasn’t sure what to hope for.

  The young monks moved past carrying Lars’ body, a sight which hit Mia twice as hard. Insane or not, the man had been a genius in the field of bio-informatics. But more than that, she had become convinced he held a vital piece of the puzzle, a piece now lost forever. Her eye caught one of the tattoos on his neck and it reminded her of how Lars had been lifting his right hand to silence her a second before he was shot.

  She went to the monks and asked them to stop.

  “Mia, what are you doing?”

  What if Lars hadn’t been calling for her silence, but preparing to show her something? His limp arms were folded over his chest. She lifted the right one and studied the top of his hand before turning it over. And that was when she saw it. Tattooed on his wrist, just below the heel of his palm, were two digits. Could this be the prime number they’d been looking for? The key to unlocking the real message hidden in the Salzburg syndrome?

  Tom swung around for a better look.

  His voice, couched in reverence, now fell to a whisper as he spoke the words. “Thirty-seven.”

  Chapter 54

  As the minutes and seconds to the next blast wave ticked down, Jack summoned the sc
ience team to the top berthing quarters. Whatever they were going to decide, it would have to be quick. Many of the bunks were covered in discarded t-shirts, sweatpants and other casual clothes the team had changed out of during those rare moments of rest. Needless to say, the sleeping quarters had quickly taken on the funky odor of a locker room.

  Right now, the stench of body odor was the least of Jack’s concerns. Once all were assembled before him he began.

  “I want all of you to leave,” Jack said, not mincing words. “Load your things onto the submersible and get topside while you still can.”

  “Shouldn’t we be allowed to make that determination ourselves?” Gabby asked, defiance in her voice.

  Standing with his back against one of the bunks, Rajesh said, “What about Anna and her work? She’s so close to piecing together the alien language.”

  “She’ll stay and so will I. I’ll keep an eye on her, I promise,” Jack assured him. “The scientist we could use most right now is Grant. Given his medical situation, we had no option but to evacuate him. I’m hoping there’s someone else up there Stark can send down to us.”

  Hart crossed his arms, rippled with muscle. “Admiral Stark said they’re putting together at least a dozen robotic rovers that can be controlled from topside. That way they can be used to explore the rest of the ship without risking any more lives than we need to.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Dag said, peeling off his biosuit right in front of everyone.

  “As head of the Office for Outer Space Affairs,” Eugene said, stepping forward, “I should also stay.”

  Jack was impressed by the gesture, but quickly reminded him about the magma bubble beneath the ship.

  “On second thought, I should probably go… might be easier to oversee the rest of the operation from the USS Grapple.”