Alder's World Part One: Mass 17 (3 page)

Several half remembered
papers on low temperature chemistry bustled into
Alder
’
s mind.
“
Tunneling? Are you
sure?
”

“It has to be. There are
several processes happening here one of which is chlorination of
ammonia.
”

“It is waking up.”
Alder muttered to himself.

“Uh
guys?
”

“Okay Pakerson, I need
this data. Can you ask the sensor array to pass data to your suit?
That should get the data sent here.
”

“Guys!
”
Martin
’
s voice
interrupted.

Glancing up, Alder gasped.
Thousands of kilometers
away but seemingly
right before him, Martin
’
s
left hand was in the lights. A tiny dot of the black liquid was
hissing and writhing on his fingertip like water on hot grease.
Images flashed before Alder
’
s
mind; the incident on solar comet 2196 A. A University of Mars
researcher
’
s self replicating
nanobots had gone amok and replicated the entire comet out of
existence in a matter of hours.

“Martin, get that off your
finger now! You
’
re boiling it
with your lights!
”
It was too
late. With a hiss and a squeal, the nanobots ate through the outer
layer of Martin
’
s
suit.

“What the hell man?”

“Don
’
t hold your
breath!
”
Pakerson
shouted.
“
Let the suit adjust
to the pressure loss.
”

“Get it off your
finger!
”
Alder
shouted.
“
You
’
re too
hot.”

“I
’
m too hot?
What?”

“Just do
it!
”

Martin cursed, flung himself down, and
began scraping his hand back and forth furiously on the floor of
the sphere.

“Turn everything on his suit off.”
Alder ordered Pakerson and Jinx who were clumsily bounding up
behind Martin.

“Why?” Jinx asked.

“Those are self-replicating nanobots.
The hotter they get, the faster they eat.” Cool him off.

The squeal from
Martin
’
s suit was growing and
he grunted in pain.
“
My
ears.
”

“Just
don
’
t hold your
breath.”
Pakerson demanded, trying to grab
his swinging arm.
“
Let the
suit adjust.
”

“I
’
ve got an emergency
bubble.”
Jinx offered, pulling at the belt
on his spacesuit.
“
Get him to
hold still.
”

“Forget the emergency
bubble.” Alder barked.
“
We
’
ve got to get it off
of him first.
”

“It hurts.”
Martin complained.

“Just keep breathing. Your
ears will adjust.
”

“No.”
Martin protested.
“
My
finger. My finger hurts.
”

Pakerson held
Martin
’
s hand up into the
light. The drop was gone,
replaced by a
hissing hole in the index finger of the suit. As they watched, a
thin stream of red, frozen instantly by the extreme cold, began
jetting out with the gas from inside.

“Hold him still.”
Jinx demanded.

“No!
”
Alder yelled. He swung his head to the
right.
“
Computer! Priority
voice authorization. Alder Samuel C.
Respond.
”

“Lieutenant Commander Alder Samuel C,
priority authorized.” The computer responded
emotionlessly.

“Sam, what are you
doing?”
Pilton
’
s voice jumped
on the line.

Alder ignored him.
“
Computer. This is a level one
biological emergency. Subject Martin, Caleb A. is infected with a
pathogen type seven, type three, possibly type nine.
Confirm.
”

The computer began
reciting the information back but Alder spoke over it.
“
Officers Pakerson and Jinx, subject
Martin, Caleb A is a level one biological threat as is your
environment.”
Red lights began flashing
around the science bay.”
You are to exit
the area immediately. Repeat evacuate
immediately.
”

“What? and just leave
him?”
Jinx asked.

“Fuck that.”
Came Pakerson
’
s reply.

“What the hell
Sam?”
Martin asked, his voice squealing as
the suit struggled to keep up with growing gas leak.

“I
’
m…I
’
m sorry. Pakerson
and Jinx you are ordered to leave now.
”

“No way.
I
’
m not leaving him.”
Jinx knelt over Martin, the plastic emergency
bubble in his hands.

“Carol.”
Alder, plead to Pakerson.
“
Carol, you need to look up
now.
”

As Pakerson turned, her lights moved
up into the nightmare Alder knew she would see. The surface of the
cube had dissolved, turning in only a few seconds into a writhing,
swirling cloud.

“What the...?” She
gasped.
“
What is
it?
”

“Just
run!
”
Alder ordered.
“
Just run!
”

Alder
sat at the conference room table just off the bridge with his head
in his hands staring at the desktop. Eighteen hours? Had it been
eighteen hours? More like three years and eighteen hours maybe
since the cube had woken, Martin had been killed, and Lance One had
fallen silent. Surely the agonizing eternity that Alder had spent
in the exo-science bay, pouring over radio channels, searching for
any sign that Pakerson and Jinx were still alive had been more than
eighteen hours. Of course the hours
wouldn
’
t have been so long if
he didn
’
t secretly already
know the truth. His battery of sensors told him the real story.
Something amazing was happening in the core of Mass 17. What had
been a hard blip deep inside the structure was now a ball, a
diffuse and growing ball. From this range and with the electrically
charged ropes of gas and dust between them, there were as many
questions as answers but one thing was clear; the nanobots
didn
’
t just eat a hole in
Martin
’
s suit, and they
didn
’
t just eat everything in
the sphere. The cloud itself was being consumed, transformed into
something new. The acidic ball in his gut reassured him that some
small part of that something new was made from the remains of
Martin, Pakerson, and Jinx.

“So how long are we
without contact?”
Captain Pilton
asked.

“Seventeen hours and twelve
minutes.”

Alder gritted his teeth.
No not three years, not even eighteen hours yet. He hated himself.
Eighteen hours was the Oxygen capacity left in Pakerson and
Jinx
’
suits when contact was
lost. He hated himself because he was waiting for the others to
realize that in twenty-eight minutes they could all
relax.

“And
we
’
re sure they never
reboarded the Lance?” Pilton had lost crew before. If this was
hitting him as hard as it was hitting Alder, he
wasn
’
t going to show it
here.

“No.” Com Tech. Reilly,
who had been asked to join the meeting answered.
“
We
’
re not sure. The last data that the Duster transmitted
indicated that it was still in contact with
Pakerson
’
s suit. She was
about twenty meters from the ship at that time...” Her voice
drifted off. She and Pakerson were good friends who had served
together for many years on research teams.

“And she was still alive
and moving toward the ship?
”

“We
can
’
t tell if she was moving,
but yes you can hear her...respiring...on the recording.”
She didn
’
t
mention that the breathing she heard was the ragged gasps of her
good friend, half mad with terror fleeing for her life.

“Where was
Jinx?
”

“He was still in the area around
Martin. We lost contact with him about three minutes before last
transmission.” Reilly paused again.

Lieutenant Commander
Mbaka, Alder
’
s equivalent
from engineering picked up.
“
The information we got from his suit is consistent with
catastrophic decompression.
”

The inside of
Alder
’
s head felt fluttery
like there was a small bird flying around in it.
‘
Catastrophic
decompression?
’
How was that
better than saying
‘
eaten
alive through a thousand pinholes in your
spacesuit?
’

Pilton eyed Mass 17
through the viewing plate as if the last eighteen...seventeen hours
and thirteen minutes hadn
’
t
happened.
“
So, at last
contact we have one survivor within twenty meters of safety, but no
contact since.
”

No one answered.

“Let
’
s go get
her.”
Pilton went on.
“
I want both remaining scouts
deployed in the cloud with any instruments that might be able to
detect Lance One. Let
’
s
commit the radar probes and the passive electronics. I want
Guadalupe Gibson to pilot one of the scouts. She did the
modifications of the passive gear. Also...
”

“She
’
s not
there.”
Alder grumbled at the table top.
No one heard him.

“Get Vorhees out of the
lab. I want him on the other scout.
He
’
s piloted in adverse
conditions before.
”

“She
’
s not
there.
”

“I want preprogrammed
paths for all the probes. I don
’
t want our scouts to get in there and then waste a lot of
time looking for...
”

“She
’
s not in
there!
”
Alder shouted,
banging both fists on the table.

Everyone jumped.

“Why do you say
that?”
Security chief Tallen asked, his
already dour face pinched with anger.

“She
can
’
t be.”
Alder explained, aware of
Reilly
’
s eyes on him.
“
Look. We
don
’
t know who programmed the
nanobots or why. But we do know
they
’
re self-replicating and
we know that they...
”

“How do we know that
they
’
re self-replicating?”
Tallen asked.

“That
’
s what that was
on Martin
’
s suit. You saw it,
the way it ate in. Whatever those bots need to replicate, our suits
have a lot of. You saw how quickly...
”

“I think it was an
attack.”
Tallen leaned forward, he was a
tall man and even seated at the table his lean was imposing.
“
I think the cube detected the radar
Pakerson was using, thought it was a threat and attacked. I think
there
’
s a good chance she
survived if she got to the ship.
”

“That
’
s not how
nanobots
work
”

“Suddenly you seem to know
a lot about a technology we just met?”
Tallen
’
s statement sounded
like a question.