Fantastic Voyage: Microcosm (25 page)

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Their carefully chosen pickup point was no longer valid.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.

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.”

He turned quickly to Trish Wylde. “And get me a fan! Just a desk fan from one of the offices. We need a positive-pressure air flow so that nothing drifts through the pinhole.”

As the final preparations were made, Hunter stood close to the bulletproof glass, knowing the miniaturized vessel was still far, far too small for his naked eye to see.

Chapter 40

Mission clock: 0:00

Loudspeakers inside the containment chamber broadcast all transmissions from Team Proteus as part of the mission, designed to keep the doctors apprised of the Mote's interior explorations.

Now, the alien creature that had been Rajid Sujatha listened to the full plans for the miniaturized crew's escape. The infesting nanomachines tapped into his human memories and knowledge—comprehending what they needed to do.

As the remaining few technicians and Marine guards prepared for the terrible ionization blast, the Sujatha-alien gazed impassively at Felix Hunter. The lean, distinguished-looking Director came closer, a reminder of Sujatha's past and humanity itself. But the barrier between them was much thicker than the shatterproof window. They stared at each other through the impenetrable glass as Sujatha's thoughts and memories flickered like dying embers.

The human being inside him exerted control for just a moment, lurching his traitorous body away. But as the desperately fleeing
Mote
shot toward the window, still too small to be seen, the Sujatha-alien made his way back to where the outside laser drill had burned a new needle-width hole. He stood like a colossus in the torn remnants of his anti-contamination suit, a huge obstruction blocking the way with his sheer bulk.

The nanomachines inside him remained disoriented enough not to comprehend what the body was doing. Sujatha managed to stop short, swaying clumsily in front of the pinhole, but not covering it.

Hunter shouted for the technicians to assist him, working with scanners to detect the
Mote's
position. “Find them! Give me a progress report.”

The mission chronometer had reached zero. Team Proteus was already growing larger. Inexorably.

On the far side of the chamber, inside the open lifepod, the original extraterrestrial astronaut twitched. It began to move.

Hunter felt a deep dread and looked desperately at Trish Wylde as she ran up with the hastily retrieved desk fan. “Hurry!”

The technician checked his scanner again. “Okay, the
Mote
is almost at the glass. Almost there.”

Then, in a single, smooth motion, the original alien pilot sat up inside its stasis pod. Its own cautious revival finally complete, after being shocked into deep stasis by the explosion of its ship, the extraterrestrial creature sucked in a huge breath of Earth air.

Hesitated.

Then exhaled.

The enormous black eyes opened, stared at the bright lights, and never blinked. Naked and sexless, the creature flexed its prehensile fingers and its stick-thin reinforced arms.

Satisfied that its body functioned again, the revived alien climbed out of the open lifepod. It took jerky steps, adjusting to Earth gravity, and moved to join its counterpart at the window. They communicated with bursts of compact language, part transmitted signal and part high-speed words.

Next, on the floor of the containment chamber, the burnt corpse of Sergei Pirov also twitched, shuddered, and began to stir. Alive again.

Masses of nanomachines inside the old Russian's body had scrambled to reconnect nerves, joining biological materials into fibers, stitching together the muscles and spinal cord, rebuilding vertebrae with microscopic bricks and mortar.

Before long, the Pirov-alien would also heal sufficiently to join them in their conquest. The three of them would pool their strength and break out of the sealed chamber.

After the mission chronometer hit zero, the
Mote
shot like a bullet across the room, aiming toward the tracer beam. Far below, the exaggerated terrain changed. Broad-stroke details grew more discernible, as if Devlin's eyesight were getting better.

But that wasn't the reason.

“We're growing. I have no way to tell what our relative size is now.”

“Okay, let's move it!” Tomiko said. As they crossed the distance, covering inches every second, they could see the glass barrier, the signal indicating the tiny new borehole.

Suddenly, something enormous blocked their way. It seemed to be the size of a planet.

Hunter's voice came over the communications speakers again. “Marc, you're almost there, but Dr. Sujatha and the other alien are trying to prevent you from reaching the window. I think they understand what you're trying to do.”

“We're still too small for them to see us,” Devlin said. “How can they know where we are?”

Arnold Freeth scratched his mousy-brown hair. “Their bodies are full of nanomachines. They might be able to hear our own beacon. Just like before.”

Tyler looked at him and nodded. “Freeth's right, Major Devlin. Remember the SOS signal?” The UFO expert fairly glowed upon hearing her acceptance.

Devlin responded by shutting down the tracking beacon. He sent another message outside. “Mr. Freeth knows what he's talking about, Felix. We'll have to go in on our own now. Watch for the flash from thermal grenades when we're through the window tunnel.” Tomiko had already removed the explosives from their storage cabinet.

The monolithic aliens in front of the transparent wall waved huge hands, stirring the air like a cyclone. Devlin fought his way through the whirlpools and vortices toward their only escape route. The
Mote
dodged city-sized hands flailing back and forth.

And all the while Team Proteus kept growing.

“What are those things trying to do? They're too big to capture us.” Tomiko looked like she wanted to zap an alien fingertip with her lasers, but she had only a trickle of power left, and no shots to waste.

As they passed under Sujatha's sleeve, a rain of kamikaze nanomachines poured off like lemmings falling from a cliff. Thousands upon thousands of the expendable devices dropped blindly through the air, microscopic paratroopers aiming for the miniaturized vessel.

Most of the nanocritters plummeted toward the far-off floor, but some crashed onto the
Mote,
now only the relative size of wheelbarrows. Using grappling arms to slice apart the metal plates, a full dozen of the carbon-lattice machines began to systematically dismantle the already battered ship.