As they pushed through the blinding snow, Captain Mullins pointed to the blue module on the far right. “That’s M2, the engineering module,” he shouted over the wind. “We’ll go in through there.”
They pressed forward, leaning into the powerful gale. Jack had been part of three Arctic expeditions in the past and each time the habitat was normally a flurry of activity, especially when a transport touched down. Scanning around, Jack still couldn’t see a soul. There might very well be a simple explanation for the eerie silence, but the strange feeling roiling his insides wasn’t going away.
Soon, they reached the engineering module and climbed the circular set of stairs outside. Mullins peered in through the glass porthole before unlatching and pulling open the heavy door. Jack held it until everyone was inside. When the door was sealed shut behind them, he radioed the C-17.
“We’re inside.”
The static-filled reply from Peters, the plane’s pilot, came back a moment later. “Roger that.”
The interior was spacious and modern, with corrugated steel floors, the walls made from a hardened plastic composite. Running the length of the engineering module was a long corridor with rooms on either side. The only light bled into the hallway from large circular windows in each chamber.
Mullins, his rifle in the ready position, ducked into a room on the right, while Jack and Gabby went left. Décor-wise, white and varying shades of blue seemed to be the dominant motif, which made the red Jack saw splattered against the wall stand out in stark contrast. He flicked a switch on the wall and nothing happened. The crumpled form of a man in a military uniform lay in the far corner. “Captain,” Jack called out. “We got a body.” Gabby stood frozen, her hand covering her mouth.
In a beat, Mullins was at the door, leading with the tactical light he’d fixed to the end of his rifle. He centered the beam over the body of a clean-shaven male sentry. The young man couldn’t have been older than nineteen or twenty, but the holes in his chest and head meant none of that mattered anymore. The fingers of his right hand were still curled around the grip of his holstered pistol. Mullins moved forward and took a closer look.
“This is a tight grouping,” he said, inspecting the wounds. “Poor bastard didn’t have a chance.” He carefully removed the soldier’s hand from the pistol’s grip and handed the weapon to Jack. “I sure hope you know how to use one of these.”
“I grew up in Houston,” Jack told him, accepting the pistol and pulling back the slide far enough to chamber a round. “Guns are baked into our DNA.” He informed Peters of the situation and told the rest of the crew to hang tight and report any movement they spotted outside.
Anna stepped into the room, a light glowing from her chest as she stared intently at the body. She had seen death before, although only briefly following the melee with the Sentinel agents on the ship. Surely, Anna would have questions, Jack knew, but those would have to wait. It was starting to look as though Sentinel hadn’t been dismantled nearly as much as they thought it had.
“What about me?” Dag asked, heavy threads of fear in his voice. “Don’t I get a gun?” His thick red beard looked dark in the low light.
“Looks like this is all we got,” Jack told him. “Whoever did this may still be here, so let’s stay close.”
They exited the room with the dead soldier, Mullins in front, Jack close behind, followed by the others.
One by one they cleared each of the rooms as they made their way down the corridor. When they reached the generator room, it became clear someone had switched off the power. With some effort, they got it going again. At least now, heat would begin flowing back through the old girl’s bones and maybe they could get a distress call out to CENTCOM.
Jack pushed into the electronics lab. The room was roughly twenty by thirty with tables hugging every wall. Shelves hung above them filled with anything and everything an electronics junkie would kill for. Watching Anna’s face, it was as though she’d come home. She reached down and scooped up what looked like a small pizza box with rotor blades. A broad smile filled her face.
“This is no time to play,” Jack told her.
Anna glanced over, frowning. “Of course, Dr. Greer. I believe this is a drone,” she told him.
“Maybe it is.” He began to wave her out of the room. “Let’s stick together.”
“I was thinking, Dr. Greer, if this drone is operational, we might be able to explore the other modules without exposing ourselves to danger.”
Jack paused and considered Anna’s suggestion. “That isn’t a terrible idea,” he told her. They had already cleared this part of the facility. Soon they would be making their way to the central social module and beyond. “How long will it take you to get it working?”
“I cannot say. I will work as quickly as I can.”
Jack nodded and was about to step from the room when Anna said: “Please be careful, Dr. Greer.”
•••
The others had moved onto the computer lab when Jack pushed ahead into comms. He inched slowly into the room, cutting the angle whenever he could to limit his exposure. “Anyone in here?” he asked, his voice echoing back at him. He turned a corner and saw a figure slumped over a desk wearing a headset. Jack flicked on the light and wished he hadn’t. A gaping hole in the back of his head told him everything he needed to know. Two more bodies wearing military uniforms were sprawled over a couch.
Whoever had done this had swept through the advance team like a scythe, wiping them out one by one. Given the surprise on the faces of the dead he’d seen so far, it was logical to assume they’d been using silencers and ambushing small groups of scientists and soldiers. He had expected to find a base bustling with activity. Instead they had found a tomb.
Jack leaned in to check the bodies on the couch when a pair of frantic eyes snapped open. He jumped back in fright. It was a woman and she drew in a deep, ragged breath.
Chapter 16
Horrified, Mia and a dozen lab technicians had paused their work to watch the battle raging on the streets below. The throngs of cars, tuk-tuks, motorbikes and shoppers were gone. In their place was a mob of hundreds, if not thousands of protesters, pushing against a wall of Kolkata riot police armed with only long wooden clubs. The crowd was shouting and chanting in anger.
“Can you make out what they’re saying?” Mia asked Jansson’s assistant Aditi, all the while trying to stamp down the sense of fear growing within her.
“It sounds as though they’re upset the government has set up curfews,” Aditi said, her large brown eyes betraying her own deep sense of unease. “It must have something to do with news of the alien ship heading to earth. People are afraid and instead of reassuring them, the government has chosen to institute draconian laws. They will never learn.”
The police were in the process of using water cannons on the protesters when Agents Ramirez and Chalk entered the lab. “It isn’t safe to stay here anymore,” Ramirez told her.
Suddenly the lights in the hospital flickered, as if to prove the agent’s point.
Mia motioned outside. “And you think it’s safer out there?”
“No, but we’re working on an extraction plan,” Chalk informed her. For the first time, she noticed the white earpiece he was wearing.
The lights flickered once again and the technician next to her crossed her arms. “We shouldn’t lose power. We’re on the hospital grid.”
That might be, Mia thought, but what about the rest of the city? India didn’t exactly have a temperate climate. If the grid went down, there was no telling how many people would die from heatstroke alone. She turned to the two FBI agents. “I need more time,” she told them.
Chalk ran a nervous hand over his taut scalp and glared at the mounting chaos outside. “We’re gonna do what we can to keep this mob from smashing its way inside, but if we fail, you’re coming with us whether you like it or not.” He brushed his suit jacket aside, revealing a small twenty-caliber semi-automatic pistol. Chalk removed it
, checked that the safety was on and handed it to Mia. “Can you use one of these?”
She thought of Ollie and nearly let out a sardonic burst of laughter. What felt like a very long time ago, he too had once asked her that same question. She took the pistol and pulled back the slide. “I can take care of myself just fine,” she informed them in as nice a way as she could. She certainly had her own set of scars to prove it, she thought, sliding the pistol into the side pocket of her cargo pants and retreating further to the back of the lab. Or at least as far as she could get from the windows and the sounds of the civil strife below. The truth was, they didn’t have time for all of this, not when so much was counting on her unraveling the mystery behind Salzburg. Taking a deep breath, Mia tried to settle her mind by going back to the summers she’d spent as a young girl camping with her family in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The smell of hot dogs roasting over an open flame. Sitting around the camp fire while her father told ghost stories.
Slowly, Mia’s focus began to return. She had identified what she believed was a gene responsible for assembling bits of non-coding DNA into the genes that made up Salzburg. Already three technicians had been tasked with comparing short lengths of Salzburg’s genome to that found in the pile of DNA once erroneously labeled junk. While she waited for the results of that study to come back, Mia busied herself with tracking down what might have caused the assembler gene to spring into action in the first place. Often gene mutations were caused by environmental factors. Could the same have been true for waking HISR in the thirty percent of the population where it hadn’t been rendered useless?
Without warning, Jansson appeared next to her. “I don’t know how you can work with everything that’s going on outside.” Her eyes darted around as though she were a caged animal. The woman looked more than uneasy. Mia stood up and gave her a hug. Jansson froze, her arms hanging awkwardly in the air, probably not entirely sure what to make of the gesture.
“There are some things that are beyond our control,” Mia told her, distinctly aware of the pistol in her pants pocket, but just as hopeful she wouldn’t have to use it. “Right now the sand is passing through the hourglass. Normally to a scientist, time is our friend—it helps us ensure our data is accurate by studying results over a long period of time—but that isn’t a luxury we have at the moment. One way or another, this pressure cooker is gonna pop its lid and I wanna get as many answers as we can before it does.” She gripped Jansson by her shoulders. “Maybe you could help me with what I’m doing.”
Jansson nodded absently. “What is it you need?”
“Right now we’ve only identified a single gene in the new 48th chromatid,” Mia told her. “I’m pretty sure if we can find someone, anyone with all four genes we suspect are out there, then we may finally be able to map the full chromosome.”
“What do you suspect that will tell us?” Jansson asked, folding her arms as a fresh wave of angry shouts rose up from the streets below.
“Tell us?” Mia repeated. “Maybe not much, but if the beings who went to all the trouble of inserting Salzburg into us have any message they wanted to deliver, I’m convinced that’s where we’ll find it.”
Jansson smiled, nodded and started to leave before she stopped. “Thank you for that.”
Mia returned the gesture. “Don’t thank me yet.”
Returning to her goal of identifying Salzburg’s source, Mia used one of the computers to identify areas in the world where Salzburg was most prevalent. After inputting the parameters, tiny red dots began to appear on the map, each representing a known patient with the disorder. Soon the individual dots gave way to red clumps, the largest centered in North America, Brazil, Argentina, India, China and South Africa. Since the earliest cases of Salzburg could be traced back to the mid-nineties, Mia knew that figuring out what had activated HISR would mean first finding out what was going on in those countries at the time. To aid in her search, Mia overlaid a series of random results, letting the computer sort through the closest matches. Pollution spikes, nuclear waste facilities, changes in the earth’s magnetic field. After nearly forty-five minutes, the computer found a match.
Mia flipped back and forth. The outbreaks of Salzburg and this new data point matched perfectly, although she was at a loss to explain the connection. Her eyes traced over the words on the screen for the tenth time. Genetically modified organisms.
The first genetically modified plant was created in 1983. About a decade later, GMOs would go into commercial use and from there go on to change food production around the world. It would also stir up bucketloads of controversy and debate. Although this certainly wouldn’t help, Mia was quite certain the blame for Salzburg did not lie at the feet of the GMO industry. Regardless, one thing was clear: the assembler gene HISR, planted within the DNA of most if not all of the species on earth, had been programmed to remain dormant, waiting for the emergence of GMOs in order to begin transforming the genetic makeup of the planet. Were the Ateans trying to somehow improve us, replace us or wipe us from the earth? Mia suspected the time was fast approaching when she would get her answer, although something else told her she might not like that answer when it came.
Chapter 17
Greenland
Until the science module, designated M3, was cleared, and they gained access to the medical ward, the computer lab would have to make do as a temporary clinic. Gabby was with Jack, helping him remove the dead soldier they had found draped over the wounded engineer. They laid her on the couch, her green army fatigues stained with blood. None of them were medics and it was difficult to tell whether the blood was hers or from the individual who had been lying on top of her. The nametag on her uniform said Tamura. She was Japanese American, somewhere in her late twenties with bronzed skin and fine features. She was also tall, five-eight, and athletic.
Gabby undid the top half of her uniform, searching for a wound. As she attempted to peel part of the fabric from Tamura’s right shoulder, the woman groaned with pain.
“I see a bullet wound,” Gabby said. “Looks like it entered right above the collarbone”—she slid her hand down the back of the white t-shirt Tamura was wearing—“and exited next to her shoulder blade.”
Jack opened drawers in search of something to help stem the bleeding. He found a roll of brown paper towel and brought it over. Gabby bunched up two wads and pressed them against both sides of the wound.
Jack stood, shaking his head in disbelief. The name plate on the deceased soldier they’d removed from the couch read McGraw. His wounds looked very similar to Tamura’s. It wasn’t long before Jack was able to imagine how the scene might have played out. The soldier sitting at the desk was likely shot first. Reacting on instinct, Tamura and McGraw had leapt from the couch to engage their attackers, only to be fired upon and left for dead.
Jack knelt down next to her. “Do you feel pain anywhere else?” he asked, scanning her legs and torso for concentrations of blood.
“He saved me,” Tamura whispered, her eyes shifting over to McGraw. “I hate to see him on the floor like that.”
“I do too,” Jack assured her. “But right now we’re short on free hands and security. Can you tell us what happened?”
Tamura swallowed. “I’m thirsty.”
Gabby glared at him. “Why don’t we save the questions for later?”
A noise from inside a utility closet a few feet away caught Jack’s attention. He spun in time to see the door fly open and a man wearing a heavy parka leap out at him. He reached for his weapon only to find it wasn’t there. But his attacker was armed and raised the weapon, shouting something in a language Jack didn’t understand. Five shots rang out before the man crumpled to the floor, a pool of blood spreading around him.
Smoke trickled from the barrel of the pistol in Tamura’s hand. A second later, she went limp. Jack caught the gun and readied it as he checked the rest of the room.
“What’s going on?” Mullins shouted over the radio’s static hiss. “Everyone okay?”
“We’re fine,” Jack reassured him, “but we may have just found one of the people responsible for the attack on Northern Star.” He went over and took the dead guy’s gun, searching him for any form of identification and finding none.
From the hallway came a buzzing sound. Jack grabbed the pistol he’d laid on the desk and readied himself for a fresh assault, all his senses on high alert.
The noise grew louder as something flew into the room and came to an abrupt stop. The object moved left and then right before darting away and down the other end of the corridor.
“The hell was that?” Gabby asked, rising to her feet.
Jack sighed, wiping a hand across his forehead. “Anna’s new flying friend.” He had chalked up Anna’s delight in working on the drone to a child’s tendency to want to play during the least opportune moments. Throughout his life, he’d seen it time and again, in church, during important speeches, and now after discovering the entire advance team had been slaughtered.
As it turned out, using a drone to scout the rest of the facility was an excellent idea. It would take a fraction of the time and reduce their exposure if any of the assassins were still here.
His eyes found Tamura, who was still regarding him, although faintly.
“I owe you one,” he said.
She smiled. “Bet your ass you do.”
Clearly, Sentinel or some other organization was trying to stop them from reaching whatever lay beneath the ice sheet. They had to know the United States and her allies would make them pay for what they had done. Unless, Jack wondered, retribution didn’t matter. Perhaps whoever had done this had waited for the advance team to complete their work, from setting up the base camp to drilling the hole and installing the deep mineshaft elevator equipment. Jack caught his fingers rubbing in that slow circle that signaled his mind was fast at work. Maybe this wasn’t about dissuading them or controlling the Northern Star. Maybe it was all about getting there first.
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