Europa Contagion

by Nicholas Thorp

  Prologue

  No one could have possibly known what was truly in the container. By mere accident, the container was not sealed properly and shaken in such a way that, for just a fraction of a second, the entity slipped out.

  An imperceptibly tiny, microscopic tear was also present in one of the suits during the accident. This was something only someone with an electron microscope could have had a chance of seeing. This tear was truly small; just less than ten nanometers in length, about three times the size of a DNA helix. It hadn’t even torn through the suit entirely. It was simply an incredibly thin slice on the surface. Under normal conditions, this was nothing to worry about. Even the smallest virus known on Earth was seventeen nanometers across. But this wasn’t Earth.

  A few somethings smaller than ten nanometers managed to make their way out of the container they were supposed to be sealed in and found themselves drifting in the air. They eventually fell into the microscopic tear. They sat in a relatively safe place sandwiched between two layers of plastic. The shower-down would have gotten to this place, but too many people were crammed in the small decontamination room. The liquids hadn’t quite been able to reach into this small tear where these somethings sat and the powerful ultra-violet lights didn’t penetrate the plastic.

  Soon they found themselves being moved and shaken about as the suits were taken off. Only by a slim chance did the plastic move in such a way that they found themselves free from its protection and were floating in the air once again. Even further by chance did one land directly on the leg of one of the crew during the accident. Another one also landed on soft skin. The remaining pieces that floated around in the air simply fell to the floor, where the environment’s low humidity and high temperature would lead to no more functions.

  Before this moment, all pieces had been in a stasis of sorts, cocooned in a perfectly safe environment of cold liquid water. They had no concept of what skin or air could be, for they could not think. They simply were. Therefore, when one piece had landed on skin, it had the instinctual response: do nothing. And with all things that simple, all it could do was react.

  At the moment, this one piece was very vulnerable. Even a simple scratch from a fingernail or a quick movement would have dislodged and terminated it. This did not occur. And, the conditions were right for it to begin. The higher-than-normal humidity, warmer temperature, and salt in its surroundings triggered a reaction. It did what it was programmed to do by evolution in such a scenario: it began to burrow toward the warmth.

  The top layer of skin on a human would prevent any microorganism or even a virus from entering, assuming the skin wasn’t broken. This entity, however, could burrow. One particular entity did not even have to worry about the skin, though, because the unsuspecting crew member had cut themselves and the entity was able to bypass the top layer of skin entirely.

  Once inside, the burrowing commenced. Down it went, through the cut on the leg: through the epidermis, then the dermis, until it passed the adipose tissue and found itself near the bloodstream. At this point, it was safe from falling away, but still, its environment was potentially dangerous. Any of the millions of leukocytes, or white blood cells, could have determined at any point that the entity was an intruder and could try to eliminate it. The stage had to be set favorably before it could perform its next big step. The white blood cell was dangerous, true, but it could just as easily be hijacked and used as a trojan horse of sorts. It was a risky gambit, but if it worked then the entity could proceed to the next part of its cycle. At this point, it had progressed slightly, and now a new instinctual objective arose: survive.

  Soon the entity was carried along in the bloodstream with the other many red and white blood cells. Eventually, it landed on one particular cell called a dendritic cell.

  Such a cell is a messenger of sorts, and if the dendritic cell found something it deemed dangerous, like a virus, it would sound the alarm alerting an army of other cells to come in and wipe out the danger.

  The entity was designed very carefully by evolution to be able to attach itself to a myriad of cells it happened upon. As it sat on the dendritic cell, it changed its structure and began a test to see which structure could match. After dozens of changes and adjustments, it finally found a structure that would match with the receptors on the dendritic cell and bound itself. Now it had access to the cell.

  It then began to analyze the dendritic cell and found its DNA. The DNA was the holy grail for the entity, and it offered a whole host of information. It learned what it needed to know how to not just survive, but soon thrive.

  The entity began to create new DNA from scratch, then injected the new genetic material into the cell.

  It worked. By capturing the dendritic cell, the entity had effectively wiped out the alarm system, at least for this one particular cell it had captured. The dendritic cell was under its command. Now it could build. By injecting its own genetic instructions into the cell, it altered the cell’s DNA and started having it create basic replications of itself. The dendritic cell was now a factory that would create millions of basic replications of the original entity. The replications spread out, taking control of several other cells in the area, including white blood cells. The human body had not even considered that the entity was a threat for it was too small and had impacted so little. Not even an alarm had been raised.

  At this point, the entity was acting very much like a virus from Earth. A normal virus at this stage would continue to take over millions and billions of cells until the body finally figured out something was wrong. However, this was not a virus from Earth. It was different; something never before encountered by humans. It stopped after amassing a sizable platoon of white blood cells.

  Once again, the entity created new DNA and injected the new genetic material, changing the dendritic cell in several ways. One such change was the outer structure of the cell, which began to grow small tentacle-like structures. When the dendritic cell bumped into the wall of a blood vessel, the tentacles ‘grabbed’ the walls, keeping it in place.

  It surveyed its surroundings to the best of its abilities. The small tentacle-like features grew out more and took hold of the surrounding tissue. Sugar, an excellent source of energy, and other nutrients were now available to it. It sat and gathered its information. Finally, it determined that it could proceed.

  As it sat gathering energy, so too did it gather understanding. With this newfound complexity came a new imperative: grow.

  The entity had wanted to grow using its own unique alien replication, but the conditions were not right for this. Instead, it had learned of a process known as mitosis from the captured cell.

  Unfortunately for the entity, it could not yet perform Earth-like mitosis, as it wasn’t large and complex enough to do so. Rather than duplication through mitosis, the last genetic sequence it had injected into the originally-captured dendritic cell allowed it to start creating something new and more complex that had a chance to replicate, if it survived.

  It did survive and, as with all forms of life, it then began to grow exponentially. The first split only created two new units. But then came four. Then eight. Then sixteen. In only twenty cycles the units were numbered at over one million. Not only did each split double its numbers, but each split also occurred even faster than the previous one. If one were watching this grow as one watched bacteria grow, one might say it reached its intended size in record time.

  Soon the units were large enough that they could no longer safely stay in place, so they searched for the safest place to continue growing. With the white blood cells as bodyguards, several units took a ride through the pumping bloodstream. While traveling, specialized replications were created that sent out signals to other cells that told the oth
er cells there was nothing to worry about. As far as the human body was concerned, nothing had changed, and everything was normal.

  As the units that now constituted the entity continued living and growing, it also continued to get a better idea of its surroundings. From time to time, units created new DNA to inject into the host cells to adapt better. Its journey took it from place to place in the body. At seemingly random intervals, a unit would use its tentacles and search the area to see if it was safe. There was no way it could know what safety actually meant. The process was one of trial and error.

  As it made its observations it started to build up something like a memory of relativity: some places were better suited to its survival relative to others. After many such observations, it built up a kind of library, and could consider which place would be the ‘safest.’ One area of interest the entity had discovered was the nervous system. It had stumbled upon it rather quickly and found it to be the most complex and promising system it had encountered. As it continued to search, it eventually determined that the nervous system was, in fact, the most complicated system in its surroundings.

  Soon thereafter, the entity concluded that the nervous system converged to a singular place. After more time, it found what might be the singular place: the spinal column. Digging tentacles into the column, it was clear, even to the simple entity, that this was the key to its continued safety. If it could find the ‘control center’ for it all, it might create a barrier of safety around it.

  So, it continued to move inexorably, following the trails of complexity until it could find the origin. This was how it was designed and this is how it made its way to the most complicated machine that evolution on Earth had yet created: the human brain. When it arrived, the signs were clear: this was the place to be. All indications pointed to this as a place where not only could it be safe, but it might even be able to change its surroundings into a very protected environment.

  As it did when it first reacted and began its journey, it burrowed until it found itself near the hippocampus. Its tentacles spread out and confirmed what it had ‘hoped’ for: the control room. Right now, though, its environment wasn’t quite set up to its most optimal conditions or, its desires, if one could call them that. So, slowly, it began to restructure the immediate surroundings. Mere cellular reproduction was one thing but, with that completed, the entity began to undertake a much more ambitious imperative. With its own safety seemingly guaranteed, the next instinctual reaction took place: reproduction.

  ONE

  Welcome to Europa

  Kato thought he felt something strange, like a rumble. He slowed the vehicle down to a crawl. The Nomad had never been outside the base for so long, and Kato had only ever been test driving in simulations like this. So, when he slowed the vehicle to a stop and felt the vibrations getting stronger, he became concerned.

  Just then the entire vehicle lurched to one side, throwing the two people inside to the wall. Perhaps he had not pressurized the hull correctly. Maybe the latch didn’t close and lock properly. There could have been a programming error of some kind that had led to a major and catastrophic software breakdown, resulting in the computer thinking that it was a good idea to suddenly depressurize the entire cabin. Or maybe there was a micro-fracture that had been introduced when the Nomad experienced more g-forces than normal as it accelerated toward Jupiter, growing for years unnoticed and was about to exceed the fracture toughness value, leading to a complete failure of the entire system. Then again, there was a large amount of hydrogen on board. It wouldn’t be the first time that using hydrogen had ended in disaster.

  These were the thoughts that were passing through Kato’s mind as his body was thrown against the wall. The vehicle shook again even harder and a constant alarm began to sound. Large lights in the roof began to blink red. No matter what he considered, it seemed likely that the great difference in pressure between the inside and outside was about to equalize itself in a most violent fashion.

  Yet none of it made sense. All the lights on his dashboard had been green indicating that there were no problems moments prior, and Kato had spent a significant amount of time with Felix making sure that nothing was wrong before doing a field test. Kato knew that Felix had spent many hours going through the checklists and making sure that, physically, nothing was wrong with the Nomad.

  Alice, at this point also flush against the wall next to Kato, pushed herself up, and looked around worriedly. She had to raise her voice to make sure she was heard over the alarms. “What’s going on? Was that some kind of explosion?” Alice, much like Kato, was at a loss as to what was happening.

  “I don’t know, but we better get our helmets on,” Kato said and glanced at the spot on the console where the pressure gauge was. The readings were perfectly fine, but now many other lights were blinking orange or even red. Kato couldn’t figure it out in such a short amount of time but pushed himself up as Alice began to make her way to the cabinet where their helmets were.

  The moment he stood up, however, the vehicle lurched again, throwing both unwilling participants toward the front of the cabin. Kato hit his head directly on the steering column. As his now limp body flipped and fell against the small front window, his arm hit the console, accidentally hitting the audio functions of the Nomad. The sound of even more alarms boomed.

  Alice’s torso hit the captain’s chair, but even so, she managed to twist her body and put out her arms and legs to absorb most of the impact with the front window. The vehicle was now tilting at a dangerous angle of forty-five degrees straight into the ground.

  Looking around, Alice instinctively brought her arms to her sides, but her EMU had already reacted to her injury and compressed the area she hit. Although the term was antiquated, the astronauts still referred to their spacesuits by the name originally used in the early days of America’s space program: Extravehicular Mobility Suit or EMU.

  She couldn’t believe what was happening. If this wasn’t a complete nightmare, she couldn’t think of what could be. As she stared out the small front window, her eyes widened like a deer in the headlights, and her entire body chilled at what she saw: liquid water. It had to be a plume that was about to burst. It was at this point that Alice felt fear; a certain fear that one feels when they know that their life is truly, imminently in danger; the feeling when your stomach churns and you somehow find the time to think about all the events leading up to this point. If the hull was about to burst, or if they were about to be submerged in water, their helmets might be their only chance of survival. Even with the EMU and helmets though, there was no guarantee they would survive. The outside was inimical and the Nomad was the one place right now that would ensure their survival. Assuming the Nomad could survive, that is. If the radiation outside didn’t guarantee death, the minus 274-degree Fahrenheit temperature would.

  Ignoring the pain in her sides, she swung around and grabbed the console with both her hands. It was as if time had slowed down for Alice. She glanced around and eyed all the available sets of handholds she would need to get to make it to their helmets. She was, in some sense, lucky. The Nomad had plenty of handlebars in places where one might want them in a low-g situation, not to mention she only weighed about eighteen pounds on this moon.

  Alice did some minor and instinctual calculations and then made her move. Pulling herself up with just the right amount of force, she flung herself to the next set of handholds, then jumped again to the next set. Her light weight allowed her to make quick progress.

  Holding onto a handlebar with one hand, Alice grabbed her MK V helmet that had been snapped in place in the cabinet. As per procedure, both Kato and Alice were wearing the rest of the EMU, so as long as they could get their helmets on, they could potentially survive. It was awkward putting on a helmet with one hand while trying to maintain balance on a 45-degree incline in the middle of a life-threatening situation while constant alarms and lights blinked, but Alice still managed to place the helmet on her suit as quickly as she had
always practiced. Twisting the helmet to lock it on her suit, it snapped into place with a satisfying clunk. A text of green appeared on her helmet reading “Welcome Alice.” Her Heads Up Display (HUD) began to boot up: a small picture of her EMU and an anatomical version of her body lit up in green, vital readings popped up, the date and time appeared, along with other important information. The loud sounds died down as her suit readjusted the incoming sound to a bearable level, and her visor automatically began to tint itself every time the bright alarm lights blinked.

  Grabbing the other helmet in her free hand, she let go of her handhold and slid down to the front of the cabin. This happened slower than she would have wanted. Being in a low-g environment meant that things tended to happen a bit more slowly. Alice landed next to Kato, who had just regained consciousness and was laying on his back lifting his head around in a temporarily dazed confusion. He was bleeding from a cut above his eye.

  As she slid on his helmet and began to twist it so it too would be locked into place, Kato whispered into the microphone in his helmet. His words were amplified to Alice’s headset: “Throttle... to reverse...disengage safety...” Her helmet’s automatic gain control made it easy to hear him, but before she could do what he wanted and before Kato could finish, another quake shook the vehicle, throwing Alice off balance. She might not have known the Nomad as intimately as Kato, but she had trained more than enough to know how to operate it in the event she was alone. Turning around and regaining her footing once again she located the throttle handle and pushed it to the rear position. Nothing seemed to happen.

  Kato blinked his eyes as he tried to focus. Blood began to flow down into his eyes, making it difficult to see. His EMU had also booted up, and a warning light appeared in the HUD on his helmet showing a red area around his head on his anatomical body.

  “Warning, head trauma detected: epidermis cut. Administering First Aid.” A calming voice in his ear spoke, and his suit began to react. A small clear fluid began to spray directly on the cut on his forehead. It immediately dried the blood, stopping the liquid from flowing down into his eyes, and helped him just enough to see clearly. Reaching out to the console, he depressed a button that deactivated the normal safety features. Things seemed to stand still for the briefest of moments, but it was only momentary points of silence in between the beeping of the alarms.