He stared with huge black eyes and then, with fluid movements that demonstrated that he now had complete control over his transformed body, the Pirov-alien prowled over to the control panel that operated the sealed doors. As the bone saw buzzed, he pressed it against the metal wall. The sawblade whined and sparks flew.
If Pirov cut through the controls, perhaps he could crack open the airlock and emerge into the unprotected atmosphere of Earth. It would only take one breath, one brush of his hand…
Sujatha could never allow him to do that. I am still responsible for some things. I must do what I can… while I can.
Calling upon his last shred of humanity, Sujatha swayed on his feet, recovering his balance on limbs that no longer functioned the way they'd been born to. He lurched toward the pile of medical devices the Russian doctor had scattered during his rampage. Sujatha still recognized the tools he had used during years of medical practice.
The Pirov-alien had access to all that knowledge in his once-human brain . … but only if he specifically searched for the information. It would simply be a matter of time before he realized this. The transformed Russian turned his back to Sujatha and continued his work with a grinding shriek against the metal circuitry plate.
The agitated Marines moved back and forth, waiting for emergency orders. In the observation deck, Hunter seemed to be arguing with Congressman Durston, who demanded that he trigger the full-scale annihilation routine at once.
Sujatha stared up at the Director, feeling deep sorrow but doubting anyone could read his non-human expressions. He no longer saw Dr. Trish Wylde outside the window.
He picked up a hand-held surgical laser from the floor. His long, many-jointed fingers wrapped around it like gripping tentacles. He knew how the laser's controls worked. He remembered.
Before he could be possessed by an alien imperative, Sujatha stumbled forward, adjusting the laser scalpel to its highest power and deepest cut. He staggered headlong on awkward-jointed legs until he fell into the Pirov-alien. Without saying a word, not daring to hesitate, he rammed the laser against the Russian doctor's back—and powered on the beam.
Smoking flesh crackled as red-hot light cut through Sergei Pirov's spine. Not daring to think about what he was doing, Sujatha ripped the line upward, slicing a deep incision the length of his former comrade's back.
The alien screamed as blackish blood boiled and sprayed through the seared edges of the wound. The laser scalpel burned deep enough to sever arteries and any other organ it encountered. The scalpel beam split the ribs, chopping vertebrae, opening Pirov like an elk gutted by a hunter.
It took all of Sujatha's remaining strength.
Convulsing, the Russian-alien dropped the bone-cutting saw. It spun, bouncing around on the floor with a wild jet of sparks that reminded Sujatha of the fireworks his girls liked to ignite on the Fourth of July.
His limbs jittering, his body already dead, the Pirov-alien collapsed onto Sujatha, twitching and kicking. The cutting laser had severed him nearly in two. An inhuman gurgle came from the Russian's spindly throat. A flow of thick saliva curled out of his lipless mouth as he lay smoking on the floor, huge black eyes dull and unseeing.
Desperate, Sujatha stared at the laser scalpel in his hand. With a few quick slashes he could chop apart the still-dormant alien pilot in the open lifepod, then turn the cutter on himself. That would take care of the other problem.
But even as he considered that option, paralyzing pain screamed through him. His muscles spasmed, his lips pulled back to expose clenched teeth. He dropped the laser scalpel and it rolled away into the clutter of dumped instruments. He couldn't move, couldn't extend a finger to pick up the scalpel. He had surprised them when he'd attacked Pirov, but now the nanomachines froze his muscular controls, holding him hostage.
Buzzing swarms raced through his body, finishing the transformation. Sujatha could barely think. His mind was a constant roar of static now. He couldn't even see clearly. The lights were so bright. So bright. Gasping, groping for words, he looked up at the VIP observation deck.
He saw Director Hunter again, watching him in helpless horror. He thought he saw tears streaming down the man's face, but he couldn't be certain with his alien-skewed vision.
Sujatha drew a deep breath full of foul tastes and strange odors. His mouth worked, his throat constricted, and he tried to make a sound. If only he could speak one last time, convey his message. A final plea.
“Director, sir, I beg you. Destroy everything before it is too late.”
Vasili Garamov lurched out of his seat and bent, retching, over a metal wastebasket. Durston sat with his eyes wide, his normally florid face pale, but set with a grim satisfaction.
Hunter hesitated, looked at the chronometer. “I… can't. Team Proteus still has a few more minutes. I have to believe they can pull off a miracle.”
Durston swung a fist into his open palm. “Don't be foolish, Director. Cut your losses.”
After the last message from Team Proteus, Hunter knew deep inside that Marc and his crew could very well have been the first casualties of the nanomachine threat. He had let his son-in-law down, just as he'd let Kelli down. Too often he'd made promises that he had no ability to keep.
I promised them they'd get out safely.
Garamov came back, looking shaky. He brushed a hand across his lips and nodded, staring at the open lifepod below, at the transformed researchers. “We dare not take additional risks. I give you full authorization. I… will deal with my government later. Destroy everything while we still can.”
Hunter glanced back and forth between the diplomats, saw the chaos in the chamber below, then stared at the chronometer. If he didn't act fast enough, and a few stray nanomachines escaped, the entire mountain facility would have to be vaporized.
Congressman Durston drew a deep breath. “Be realistic, Hunter, when that other doctor's transformation is complete, the alien in him will try to escape.” He squinted down at the smoking corpse on the floor. “But, unlike Dr. Pirov, there won't be anyone in there to stop him.”
Hunter looked into the sealed chamber, searching for Sujatha's last shreds of humanity. But he saw no glimmer.
He could find no excuse to wait any longer. He knew what he had to do.
Garamov sagged in defeat. “Just vaporize the room and be done with it.”
With the heavy heart of a caring executioner, Hunter moved to the control panel. Using his private authorization codes, he prepared the sterilization burst, powering up the generators that would release the ionization blast. The final option for Project Proteus. “Sorry, Marc. I don't have any choice.”
A new alarm rang through the facility, warning of the impending sterilization routine. “Systems are charging.”
When released, a blast of high-intensity gamma rays and extreme high voltage mixed with a wash of plasma fire would melt every single thing inside the containment chamber—the people, the miniaturized Team Proteus, the alien specimen itself, and all of the microscopic nanomachines.
Pulsing alarms echoed off the stone walls; all nonessential personnel evacuated to a reasonable distance from the sterilization burst. Hunter looked at the scarlet light on the control panel, indicating the readiness of the fail-safe routine. He drew a deep breath.
“Mr. Durston and Mr. Garamov, these gentlemen will take you to a place of safety.” Hunter placed the two diplomats into the care of the Marine guards, who ushered them out of the observation deck.
Below, at floor level, he himself would stand behind thick lead shields with the last few Marines. And watch the end of it all.
He had a final moment of peace, to think … or perhaps it was best not to think. Too much time to regret what he knew he had to do. “I'm sorry, Marc. I'm so sorry, Kelli.”
“Fifteen seconds,” one of the technicians shouted.
The room itself would be cauterized, incinerated, all evidence destroyed. All threats neutralized.
Sujatha dragged himself back to his feet
, swaying. He looked over at the corpse of the man/alien he had murdered.
“I… I'm sorry, Dr. Sujatha.” Hunter's voice sounded hollow over the intercom speakers. His legs felt wooden when he stood, ready to run. He wouldn't have much time to get clear once he set the irrevocable process in motion.
Just then the system light blinked Ready. He reached forward to press the “commit” button.
Then the intercom crackled, and he heard a message burst. The communications technician shouted over the intercom. “Director Hunter! We've just received a message from Team Proteus. The Mote is on its way out.”
Chapter 39
Mission clock: 3 minutes remaining
Devlin flew at full speed away from the open lifepod. The impeller motors whirred, straining, growing hot, but still going strong. “Come on, come on!”
An empty gulf of air, no obstacles… and an inconceivably vast distance.
They had nowhere to go. “So much for the original plan.”
Beyond the lifepod's metal lip, the Mote rose into a storm of thermal currents in the open space of the wide room. Devlin wrestled to keep them flying level against hurricane-force stray breezes.
Their carefully chosen pickup point was no longer valid. Simply taking them out through the autoclave again would not work. The nanocritters were everywhere.
“Now that we're out of the alien's body, we should consider Plan B,” Arnold Freeth said from the main compartment. “Uh, has anyone thought of a Plan B?”
Inside the isolation room, the scale of every object was so great that none of them could interpret what they were seeing. The perspective was too skewed. Devlin had no idea where to fly, except away from the swarms of microscopic machines.
Kelli had always complained when he refused to stop and ask for directions.
Devlin fluttered his hands over the controls. “I'm activating our signal beacon so they know where we are—wherever that is.”
Only three minutes remained before the miniaturization field began to lose its integrity. If the Mote grew to full size in the middle of the chamber, they would all be exposed to the marching nanomachines.
Tomiko shouted into the microphone. “Project Proteus, this is the Mote. Hey, Felix—can you read us? We're out of the alien's body in open air, moving away from the lifepod. We are currently open to suggestions.” The high-momentum transmission made their flight even more of a violent roller coaster.
Devlin kept flying, muttering to himself as the silence stretched out. “Come on, Felix—answer!”
“Maybe they've given up on us already,” Freeth said.
“It's taking too long,” Tomiko said. “Let's move it.”
Finally, Director Hunter's voice came back full of excitement. “You're alive! Is Marc—is everyone okay?”
“Intact, so far.” She looked at the streaming nano-armies below, everywhere she looked. “But a lot of things happened while we were inside. The alien's body was infested with microscopic machines. They've been spreading—”
“We're aware of that, Team Proteus. In fact, you were just moments away from being sterilized.” The crew listened in horror as Hunter gave a rapid summary of what had occurred. “The fail-safe incineration device is still primed.”
“And I thought things were tough on the inside,” Tomiko said.
Devlin piloted them through the lurching turbulence, glanced at the mission chronometer as the number dropped to two minutes. “No time for chitchat, Tomiko! Just find out what we're supposed to do. How do we get out of here? Does Felix have any ideas?”
The battered vessel soared over an enormous metallic structure that must have been a table or a tray of equipment. Millions upon millions of creeping nanomachines covered the surface, like endless herds of buffalo stampeding over the Great Plains.
Freeth looked out the broad window beside his seat. “Look how far those things have gotten from the lifepod!”
“They've probably filled the whole room by now.” Dr. Tyler's face was white, her mouth drawn. “They're on every surface, every object. Pirov and Sujatha must have spread them around the chamber.”
She unbuckled her seat restraints, lurched forward, and grabbed onto Devlin's chair. With grave seriousness she spoke into the comm system. “Director Hunter, we can't overemphasize the extreme hazard of this situation. You were right to worry about the threat. Don't take any chances.”
Arnold Freeth did not argue with the medical specialist. Tomiko and Devlin exchanged a glance. They all understood what Dr. Tyler was saying.
Hunter, though, sounded equally determined. “I don't want to leave any of my people behind. We've already had enough martyrs on this project.”
Devlin's voice was hoarse. “Roger that. I'd love to get out of here, too, Felix, but we can't let you unseal the room, not even for us.”
Tomiko looked at the mission chronometer on their control panel, saw the seconds ticking away. “Our field integrity fades in a minute and a half. After that, we start to grow.”
Dr. Tyler lifted her chin. “Director Hunter, for the sake of the human race, you've got to proceed with the sterilization burst.”
“My dad used to tell me that only wimps give up.” Devlin had quoted that to Kelli when she was in the hospital, and she'd laughed. Felix Hunter had been there, beside him, and he would remember it, too.
Gritting his teeth, he propelled the Mote across the open chamber. The streamlined vessel crashed through air currents like a speedboat on choppy waters. He did not slow for a moment as his engineering mind grappled with the problem. “I regret that I have but one life to give, Felix—well, actually, four lives here inside the Mote—but I'd prefer to make the sacrifice some other time. I have an idea.”
Hunter's desperate voice came back in a rush, as if he'd been ready to grasp at anything. “I knew you would, Marc, but you'd better talk fast.”
“Right now, we're orders of magnitude too small for the nanomachines to infect us. We can see them. We're on their scale. We know we're clean.” Even the crew aboard the Mote waited to hear what he had to say.
“And then what, Marc? We have no way to extract you.”
“Yes, you do, sir. The same way we got into the alien's capsule. Use the other laser drill to bore a hole most of the way through the window. We can track the beam, and I'll maneuver the Mote to the end of the shaft, then blast the remaining glass away. You can trace us by using our beacon. With our own eyes we can make sure there aren't any nanocritters in the vicinity.”
Devlin fought with the bucking ship, but his attention focused on convincing his father-in-law. “Apply a positive-pressure air flow to keep the nanocritters from passing through. After we're through the tunnel, Tomiko can toss a thermal grenade to seal the shaft behind us. She's brought plenty along.”
Tomiko gave him an I-told-you-so smile.
“Sounds risky, Marc. You know I'd be bending procedures—and putting the planet at risk.”
“It's either that or kill us all now, Felix.” A low blow, and he knew it—but he was trying to save the lives of his crew. “Give us a chance. I can pull it off. Trust me.”
After a brief, frightening pause, the Director agreed. “You know what my choice has to be, Marc. We'll get the laser drill in position.”
The distant observation window seemed light years away. On the Mote's control panel, the mission chronometer reached zero. Time had run out.
The miniaturization field would now degrade.
Sick with worry, his head pounding, Felix Hunter issued commands to the trained troops and scientists rushing around in the tunnels. Most employees had already retreated into sheltered rooms. At least Garamov and Durston had been safely placed in protective isolation, where they couldn't countermand his orders, and Hunter's own people here would follow his instructions. He was still the Project Director.
Before the Mote's launch, he'd made a promise. I'll see that you get out, Marc, safe and sound. He couldn't give up until he had tried everything.
&nbs
p; But if he made a misstep now, he would doom every person on Earth.
It was folly to let his personal feelings endanger the planet. Congressman Durston would insist that it made sense simply to sacrifice the crew members, rather than gamble. Even Vasili Garamov, a much more reasonable man, would agree. The risk was too enormous.
But Hunter had to take it.
He could not simply give up on his hand-picked team. If he abandoned them when he knew there was still a possibility to save them, he'd never be able to live with himself. He'd be as soulless as the invading aliens.
But, oh, he was taking a terrible chance.
Grim now, with the authorization codes entered and the fail-safe annihilation systems waiting on standby, Hunter transferred his controls to the sheltered alcove below. The destruction protocol was ready for immediate countdown.
Hunter raced down the access stairs, shouting for the remaining technicians to assist him. Marine guards moved out of the way as Hunter guided the replacement laser drill across the painted concrete into position against the thick Lexan window, where Trish Wylde had stood talking to the infected Sujatha not long before. Now the senior pathologist raced forward, refusing to evacuate with the others, insisting on helping.
Hunter cast a glance over his shoulder and took one last look at the wreckage in the containment chamber, the open pod with the alien body still inside, the burnt corpse of the slain Pirov-alien on the floor. And the monstrous body of Rajid Sujatha, losing its last fragile hold on humanity…
Attracted by the flurry of activity, the Sujatha-alien shambled back toward them and stood on the other side of the window, staring with his enormous black eyes. Hunter flinched, but met the pasty gray creature's gaze, wondering what the altered man saw, what he remembered.
He saw no flicker of Rajid Sujatha in that inhuman visage.
After a long moment, the transformed Bengali doctor turned and took several shuffling steps away. He stood hunched as if ready to fight… but the main battle was occurring inside his own body.
Hunter and the technicians worked with the laser drill. “Calibrate it precisely. We'll have only one shot, and we can't afford any mistakes. Leave a micron of material, enough that the Mote's own lasers can burn through. Keep the tracer shining so Major Devlin can find us.”
Fantastic Voyage : Microcosm Page 24