The lever controlling the lights is to my left. A plan begins to formulate in my computer-enhanced mind. I once again use the fusion laser to cut the lever’s housing from the wall, exposing the electrical conduits behind it. To access the power grid in this section of the underground facility, I must splice the wires behind this panel to my interface cables. This will, of course, ruin them for further use. Not the best idea, considering I will, no doubt, need them later to access a computer terminal. If I only had a portable computer device, I could—
“Ms. Nakama, would you be so kind as to lend me your mobile device?”
Without a word, the reporter fishes the gadget out of her pocket and hands it to me. I examine it briefly. It is an older model device, but it will do. Lacking the fine-tuned instruments required to carefully dismantle it, I adjust the fusion laser’s beam and cut off the back panel.
“Hey!” says Nakama in protest.
“Desperation breeds improvisation, my dear,” I say.
Nakama looks less than amused.
I splice and solder the cables from behind the light switch to the circuits of the handheld computer, creating a hardwired connection. With a little creative programming, I am able to rewrite the device’s software to interface with the electrical grid. Once that is done, I simply send an electrical feedback burst through the system.
The vid-cam down the hall explodes in a shower of sparks, along with several other identical surveillance nodes farther on. I estimate the vid-cams on this entire level have been disabled, assuming the power grid is laid out as I imagine it must be.
“A repair crew will be along shortly,” I say. “They will surely discover what has happened and raise the alarm. The chances of our ultimate capture have increased. You should go back now, before it is too late.”
I can tell Nakama is considering it, but she does so for only a moment.
“I’m going to see this through,” she says.
“Stay close,” I say. “We will have to proceed in the dark.”
_elapsed time since incept: 11 hours, 36 minutes, 42 seconds.
My little trick with Nakama’s mobile device was a bit more successful than I had estimated. It seems half the facility is in darkness. Crews of tech specialists are rushing throughout the building. Security personnel, as well. We see glimpses of them down corridors and around corners. They carry handheld lamps, but the dark has made it easier for us to avoid detection.
We are two levels below our entry point now and have located a server room, lined with banks of computer towers, humming with power. The facility’s computers, as well as its cooling systems, are supplied power on a completely separate grid than the one I disabled.
I am accessing the NeXus computer network through an administrator’s terminal, sending queries, receiving and compiling data.
“Can you feed in your virus from here?” says Nakama.
“I am not sure,” I say.
_accessing nexus_net …
_query: temporary login/password requested …
_query accepted_temporary login/password assigned.
_login complete.
_query: locate project file cerulia_prime …
_file not found.
“It is not here,” I say. “I suspected as much. A sensitive, top secret project is not going to be accessed through the main network.”
_query: list lab designations …
_labs_01-10: research and development.
_lab_11: medical.
_lab_12-29: off-world projects.
_query: display facility schematic …
The computer shows me a detailed layout of the facility, and I scan it as quickly as my enhanced thought processes will allow.
“All the facility’s lab space has been assigned to projects I am familiar with. I do not know what I was expecting.”
“Right,” says Nakama. “Still, it’s not as if they would assign a lab to a top secret project to enslave thousands of people against their will and label it evil top secret enslavement project.”
I notice something. “Wait … look at this,” I say.
_send facility schematic to holographic display.
The map of the underground facility appears above a nearby tabletop equipped with a holographic emitter. I instruct the computer to zoom in on a specific section.
“See, here.” I direct Nakama’s attention to an area of the layout a few levels down from our current location. The sections of the schematic representing walls and other structural elements are displayed in green. Electrical and computer conduits are displayed in red. The whole thing looks like a large circuit board.
“These red lines represent conduits above and below floors and behind walls.”
“Okay,” says Nakama, nodding.
I point to a particular section of conduit that disappears off the map. “These conduits appear to go nowhere. They just stop.”
“I get it!” Nakama says. “They can’t be connected to nothing. That’s where your super secret lab is, right? It’s so secret, it’s not even on the map.”
“Correct!” I say. “This is where they’re keeping the Overmind.”
“So, I guess that’s where we’re headed,” she says.
I nod and smile inwardly, elated with this little triumph.
“Who knows?” I say. “We might actually pull this off.”
3. Infection
_elapsed time since incept: 12 hours, 3 minutes, 17 seconds.
They have got the lights back on, but the facility is still on high alert.
Nakama and I are now standing in front of a massive, reinforced steel door with a number three and a zero stenciled on it.
Lab Thirty.
“No guards,” I say.
“It’s not like they need any,” says Nakama. “How are we going to get in there? I mean, are you seeing the size of this door?”
“Your point is well taken,” I say. “My attempt to bypass a simple security demon guarding a maintenance hatch was … less than successful. Hacking this door’s safeguards is out of the question.”
“No problem. We can just crawl through a ventilation shaft like they used to do in old caper movies.” Nakama is joking, but it gives me an idea.
“Ventilation in a place like this always has security of its own,” I say. “But it cannot be as daunting as what is in place to keep this door shut. I am fairly certain I could bypass it.”
“Um, have you seen yourself lately?” says Nakama, dryly. “You barely fit in this hallway. Crawling through an AC duct is probably not a viable option.”
“True,” I say. “The automaton construct is much too large for such a task. But it might not be a problem for a hundred and fifteen pound woman such as yourself.”
“A hundred and ten, thank you very—” Nakama connects with my meaning mid-sentence. Her eyes widen in realization. “Please tell me you’re joking,” she says in a panicky voice. “I’m claustrophobic, man. I don’t even like being underground like this. And elevators? Forget about it.”
“You are right,” I say. “I cannot ask you to do this. I suppose we can think of a better plan. I am sure there is something we can devise before the NeXus security teams find us and lock us up on what will probably be corporate espionage charges. Let me see …”
Nakama regards me with an incredulous expression. “Sarcasm? Really? I thought highly-evolved braniacs like you were above that kind of thing.” Then, with a note of exasperation, she says, “Fine, I’ll do it, but only because of the great copy it’s going to generate. Assuming I make it out of this place alive.”
“That is the spirit!” I say, enthusiastically.
The easiest way to access the ventilation system is to cut directly into it through the floor. At the fusion laser’s highest setting it takes only minutes. The narrow shaft below runs forward and back along the length of the hallway, presumably continuing below the impregnable barrier separating us from the lab beyond.
“Hold still, my dear,” I sa
y, placing my robotic finger against Nakama’s slender neck. “You are going to feel a slight pinch.”
“Wha–Ouch! Hey!”
Nakama jerks away from me.
“Please do not overreact, Ms. Nakama. I can say with one hundred percent certainty that that was not very painful.”
“No, but still … what did you just do to me?”
“Oh, I just gave you a little injection, that is all.”
Nakama gives me an offended look.
“Do not be alarmed,” I say. “It was a hypo-patch, a tiny piece of silicon imbedded with hundreds of microscopic needles. Quite ingenious, really. The needles themselves are molded from whatever chemical is being injected. They pierce the skin and dissolve instantly into the bloodstream.” I can see that my explanation of the tech is not easing the anxiety I have caused Nakama by injecting something into her without her prior permission. “I used it to inject a benign chemical agent into your bloodstream that will allow me to send audio signals to your tympanic membrane. It will also generate amplified sound waves from those produced by your larynx which will be received by the construct’s enhanced audio receptors.”
“English, Doctor,” she says with building exasperation.
I summarize. “We will be able to communicate with each other while you are down there.”
“From an injection? That’s … actually kind of brilliant.”
“The tech is not available to the public. Down you go, now.”
I help Nakama into the vent, feet first. She slides her body down into the narrow space and flips herself over onto her stomach. “You might need this,” I say, handing over the fusion laser.
“Thanks,” she says. “Well, here goes nothing.”
Nakama crawls and shuffles out of sight beneath the floor.
My audio receptors immediately start picking up the subdued grunts she begins to make as she pulls herself along the metal shaft.
“Ms. Nakama, can you hear me?” I say, sending the sound of my voice directly to her tympanic membrane.
“Yes,” she says, breathing heavily. “It’s kind of dark down here, but I can see light up ahead. I’m sure it’s past the security door. But there’s something glowing here …”
If the automaton construct required oxygen, I would have been holding my breath at that moment. “What do you see, Ms. Nakama?” I say.
“It’s some kind of security grid, a laser mesh. There’s no way through it.”
I expected something like this.
“Look at how the grid is configured. Examine the nodes from which each beam emanates. Only one or two of those will be actual emitters. The others will be refractors or receptors that bounce or receive the light.”
“I think I understand what you just said, but they all look pretty much the same to me,” she says.
“The lower right and upper left nodes should be your emitters. Use the fusion laser on the lowest setting and angle its beam directly into each emitter lens. This will overload them and disable the grid.”
“Won’t disabling it set off an alarm or something?”
“No,” I say, confidently, though in actuality I am quite uncertain. But it is our only option. Even if the NeXus security forces are alerted to our presence, we may still have time to complete our task before they arrive. No need for my companion to worry unnecessarily, though.
A few moments later, I hear Nakama’s excited voice. “I think … It worked! I can’t believe it worked! Look at me, being all technical.”
“Excellent! Well done.” I say, encouragingly. “But let us not dawdle, my dear. Each minute we spend here exponentially decreases the chances of our success.”
Her sounds of exertion resume and continue for several minutes. Finally, after what seems like hours but is actually only 6.2151 minutes by my internal chronometer, Nakama speaks again.
“There’s a vent directly above me,” she says. “I think this must be the place. I’m going to cut through. Hope no one’s working late up there.”
I wait with nervous anticipation as Nakama attempts to breach the grate with the fusion beam. And though I no longer feel the physical manifestations of stress on the human body, I can still feel its psychological effects. They are not insubstantial.
“I’m in,” she says, finally. “It’s definitely some kind of lab, lots of computer equipment and what not. And there’s no one here, either.”
I suspected as much; NeXus security protocols would have required any employees to evacuate the lab once the power went down.
“Look for a control panel near the security barrier,” I say. “Egress should not require any special security authorization, so—”
The reinforced door slides open without warning, and Ritsuko Nakama is standing there, leaning against the frame, a look of conspiratorial satisfaction on her face.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” she says, smiling. “Let’s get this party started.”
_elapsed time since incept: 12 hours, 18 minutes, 32 seconds.
The obvious focal point of the room is a large piece of technology I immediately recognize, a tall cone-shaped object as tall as a full-grown man. Its surface is polished and semi-reflective, constructed from an alloy unfound on Earth. It is gunmetal gray in color and tone but also iridescent. At its apex, inset among four multi-jointed arms (reminiscent of the legs of an arachnid on its back) is an orb, glowing eerily with green light.
Nakama gasps. “Is that—”
“The sentient computer core of the alien ship we discovered near Cerulia-Prine, yes. The Overmind.”
“What is that?” she says, indicating the radiant globe on top.
“Its brain, so to speak.”
I dare not linger to contemplate the sentient machine. I locate a computer terminal—one of completely terrestrial design and construction—connected directly to the Overmind. I immediately jack-in, using the construct’s interface node. I am behind the corporate firewall now, so hacking the system will prove much, much easier.
Nakama produces a tiny, palm-sized camera from her pocket and begins snapping pictures of the lab and the alien Overmind.
“Good thing I thought to bring a backup,” she says. “Didn’t know you would decide to fry my mobile. Still bitter about that, by the way.” Then she stops, abruptly. “Do you think it knows we’re here,” she says after a moment, her voice a whisper.
“Possibly,” I say.
Probably, I think, before brushing the question aside in an attempt to allay distraction. I am entering a series of algorithms, designed to hack the system in such a way that will allow my kill switch to spread more efficiently through the entire network. I know the math by heart and can easily enter it manually. The kill switch, however, is millions of lines of computer code and requires a different delivery method.
“Look at this!” says Nakama.
I look up, taken off guard by her outburst. I am staggered by what I see. Nakama, in her curious nature, has activated a switch controlling an observation shutter. I suppose I did forget to have the don’t touch anything talk with her before we infiltrated the secret lab. Through the now revealed window, I see a large, hanger-like room. It is filled with hundreds upon hundreds of robotic machines—ships, tanks, massive assault droids.
“It is the army NeXus is building for the alien,” I say, amazed by the arsenal’s immensity. “It is larger than I would have expected.”
Though temporarily stupefied, I remind myself there is no time to lose. I return to the computer to find my algorithms have been successful.
A secondary interface tube, a data port made to accept various forms of external input, extends from the terminal, its hungry mouth eager to accept the delivery device containing my kill switch.
“I am in,” I say.
Nakama does not respond. She is behind me, engrossed, busily taking pictures of the hangar with its thousands of war machines. All that is left for me is to insert—
_error …
_internal gyroscope
malfunction …
I suddenly realize I am flying through the air. I smash into a wall and then drop to the floor, hard.
When I am able to look up, I see a towering man, dressed in a finely tailored suit, standing over me. Where did he come from? And did … did he just throw me across the room like I was a child’s toy?
“Dr. Temple, this is a restricted area,” he says, as if scolding a teenaged vandal.
I run a quick diagnostic check and find my systems are still functioning within acceptable parameters. I quickly regain my feet and lunge at my assailant. I tackle his midsection and slam him against the reinforced glass of the observation window, which does not even crack. Nakama, her mouth agape, barely manages to avoid being crushed by the two of us.
The attack barely fazes the man who cannot be a man.
He chuckles, wickedly.
Still pinning him against the window, I take his face in my robotic hands and attempt to squeeze his fiendish mouth shut, to stop his mocking laughter.
The man hits me with a closed fist, square in the construct’s chest, and I am flying once again. The man’s face comes with me, and I am suddenly on the other side of the room, lying in a pile of demolished computer equipment.
_warning: systems failure …
_scanning …
_primary systems at 65 percent.
Nakama is cowering in the corner. I do not blame her for being scared out of her mind. I am scared as well. What is this thing? He is certainly no ordinary human being, and when I look up at the man again, my suspicions are confirmed. The skin I have torn from his face is not skin at all but synthetic flesh. Underneath the place it used to be is a metallic skull with glowing, red eyes. The material the skull is made of shimmers in the light, not like ordinary metal or the Titanium X-13 from which my automaton is constructed, but like the alien alloy from which the Overmind was fashioned.
The Lurkers & Other Strange Tales Page 13